


Vanishing Point

by gladiatorAviator



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords
Genre: Angst, Blue Needs a Hug, Drinking to Cope, It Makes Sense in Context, M/M, Modern AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Reincarnation, Surprise Vaati, dual plot action, gratuitous transistor references, it's gonna be a long boy, local author refuses to sleep in order to update chapters, many an angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-10-12 04:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17460704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladiatorAviator/pseuds/gladiatorAviator
Summary: In dreams he flows through stances and wards, a sword in hand rather than just his fists, each movement feeling far more natural than the fights he lives on day by day. He’s good at pretending that the life he lives when he’s awake is what he looks forward to, but deep down he knows that’s a lie. The times he drifts and sees blurry images of companions beside him, sharing his face and a bond he can’t seem to replicate in real life—those invigorate him far more than they should. After all, they're just dreams, right?





	1. Breach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AthenaxVio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaxVio/gifts).



> So this started out as a prompt fic and now it's gotten entirely out of hand. Ah well. Such is the life of a fic writer. I haven't quite figured out how I want this to end yet but I'll figure it out within the week. Stay tuned!

Water splashes beneath Blue’s feet as he walks down the street, busy traffic lights and neon wireframes reflected back and forth between stagnant puddles and a humid night sky. The air bites cold against his skin, and Blue squares his shoulders against the wind that rushes past him. It’s not too late, he figures, and perhaps some time to himself would be a good way to end the day. His feet lead him down a well-trodden path, the lights exploding around him in gaudy reds and greens, creating their own separate city mirrored in what the rain left behind. 

He can hear the sounds before he reaches his destination; the bass pulses behind his chest, and Blue takes in a breath before rounding the corner. Unfortunate, that his favorite place to drink was part of some nightclub. Highrise. He never did think much of Highrise. He wasn’t one for dancing, or partying in general, but this was the only place where the barman could get his drinks mixed right. At the very least, he never ran into any of his rivals there, and the people who did frequent already knew to leave him alone. 

With a heavy sigh, Blue pushes open the door. He grimaces as the music he heard outside suddenly becomes unbearably loud, each beat concussing in time with the flashing lights. They work in synchrony, the edges sharp and caustic, thundering against his eyelids and piercing against his eardrums. He flits his way past the crowds and to the bar, staring daggers at anyone who keeps their eyes on him for a moment too long. Eventually, he makes it to his destination, taking an empty stool and resting his back and elbows against the bar, crossing his legs in front of him as he frowns at the crowd he left behind.

“Blue, what have I told you about flopping yourself over the bar like that?”

Blue turns, meeting eyes with the barman with a grin on his face. “I’ll stop when you get your own place, Artura.”

Artura rolls his eyes, punching Blue’s arm goodnaturedly. “I like it here. Maybe I’ll think about it once you stop participating in your boxing matches. I don’t want you ruining that pretty face of yours.”

“Oh please,” Blue waves him off. “That would mean I’d be losing. I haven’t lost a match in a long time. Besides, you’d be losing income otherwise.”

“Sure, sure. Maybe it’s time to start looking into getting a real job,” Artura says. “If you’re going to be frequenting here might as well have a steady income. Not just waiting for whatever the underground wants next.”

Blue shrugs. “Keeps me on my toes. Going professional would be boring. Too many _rules_ making things stuffy. Might as well become an accountant or something.”

Artura replies by knocking Blue’s elbow from beneath him, making him lose his balance. He swivels around, meeting Artura with a suffering look. 

“There’s no need to be _rude_ about it, Artura,” he grouses, leaning forward on folded arms. “You’re making me think twice about coming. You know you’ll be bored without me here.”

“Ah, unfortunate. I had a new drink for you, too.”

“Oh?” Blue leans forward, the bass in the background fading as he focuses in on Artura. “It better not be another fruity drink. That shrub of yours was absolutely awful.”

“My other patrons would say otherwise,” Artura sniffs, “But don’t worry. This one should appease your taste.”

Blue hums. “Sure hope so. It’s been a long day.” He watches subdued as Artura mixes his drink, frowning at the constant pounding in his ears and the lights strobing behind him. Though, they do drown out his thoughts and perhaps he should be thankful for that. He’s been _thinking_ far too much recently, thoughts tied around vivid images and dreams that make no sense but instill such a deep feeling of loneliness in him that he doesn’t quite know how to handle it. He doesn’t have many friends—Artura and a few people he talks to on the regular in the circuit come to mind—and he doesn’t feel like he can bring it up with them. He writes down how he feels sometimes, either in the banged-up notebook by his nightstand or hastily in his phone, but it never feels quite right, venting only to himself. There’s an emptiness there, like there should be some person beside him that can understand how he feels and not make him feel stupid when he talks about what he sees.

The thrill of his fights distract him from his feelings, drowning them out for the few days he spends losing himself in preparation, clearing completely as he focuses in on his opponent, but they all end far too quickly and suddenly he is spiraling out of control with nothing to moor himself to. That loneliness hits and grasps him tight, whispering that there should be _someone_ out there, someone that fills in the cracks of what he’s missing. 

The beats thunder in fours and the lights flash red, and Blue supposes he’s the misstep of the performance, the dissonant note that battles with agitation against the rest. He’s different enough that he can’t quite blend in like everyone else can, not with the way his steps show only grace in a fight, a type of stance atypical to the rest. It’s the only one that _feels_ right, even if it goes against all convention. In dreams he flows through stances and wards, a sword in hand rather than just his fists, each movement feeling far more natural than the fights he lives on day by day. He’s good at pretending that the life he lives when he’s awake is what he looks forward to, but deep down he knows that’s a lie. The times he drifts and sees blurry images of companions beside him, sharing his face and a bond he can’t seem to replicate in real life—those invigorate him far more than they should. It’s something he doesn’t like to admit to himself. After all, they’re just dreams, right? Nothing there is real. _Here_ exists. _There_ does not.

Blue jumps as Artura sets a glass in front of him, startled out of his thoughts. He winces as bass stabs sharp corners into his ears, tossing and scrambling in his head.

Artura quirks an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t ask after him. He knows better than to prod Blue when he gets into one of his moods. “Give it a try. Should be right up your alley.” 

Blue takes the glass, studying it. All he can smell is champagne, but as he takes a swig more flavors come into light. The crispness of the champagne bleeds into a tart lemon and ends in an oaky finish, lifted by the cucumber garnish that shouldn’t work with all these flavors, but does. Before he knows it, he’s drained the entire glass. 

“Good?” Artura says, grinning.

“Yeah. Wow,” Blue says. “What’d you put in this?”

“Just a special mead cocktail of mine,” Artura replies. “Mixed it with some gin and lemon, topped it off with the champagne. Needed some color, I figured, so I gave it the garnish. Gave it a shot earlier this morning and I figured you might like it.”

“If this doesn’t make it into your regular rotations I’m rioting,” Blue says, pushing the glass away from him. “And just to make sure I tasted it right you should make me another one.”

Blue can see the shine in Artura’s eye as he turns away from him. He’s more pleased to himself than he’d admit—Blue can see that much. He’s made it something of a game to try to nail down his very specific tastes, or see how much he can make Blue hate a new drink. But, the ones he does make correctly are the only reasons why he hasn’t left to find somewhere else yet, and he grudgingly admits to himself that he does enjoy the banter they share.

Soon, one drink turns to another turns to another turns to another and now the pounding in his ears have gone from stabbing corners to blunt, rounded edges. The lights blur together, colors mixing through hue after hue, rotating and throwing to centers and edges, glinting off of his glass, smearing across the bar, shimmering along the dust and sweat in the air. Each beat takes Blue’s pulse and rams it through his blood, gripping his heart and making it pound in time with its fast-paced rhythm. He lets himself be swayed by it, closing his eyes and seeing color turn to starbursts behind his eyelids. 

People talk next to him, but their voices are carried away, drowned out by the ever-present buzz of the club’s music. He can hear distant laughter, twisted and changed into something else among the notes and other voices, all fuzzy to his ears, nothing distinct. He’s part of the stream of sound, the sound lifting him out of those thoughts that keep him awake at night, the sound reminding him that there is no need to keep _thinking,_ the sound whispering to him that the increasing amount of alcohol is fine because it wipes away those terrible, _terrible_ feelings that he would do much better without. It rips away at him, tearing his feelings from surroundings, thoughts from dreams, purpose from life. He hasn’t ever really had a purpose. He just _exists,_ lost in reality, lost to time, and he’s never been able to bring himself out of that pit he’s stuck residing in. All he seeks are distractions, things loud enough to drown out that ever-present ache, things to fill the void, but the void continues to eat up anything he throws at it. He’s still missing _something,_ something that would make him into a whole person again, be able to exist in harmony with the universe he resides in. He’s lonely, depressed, detached, tired, and...

Blue flashes his eyes open, a growl escaping his throat. No, now is not the time to _think._ He’s here to forget and pretend he’s living his life much better than he actually is. _Keep this up, and you’ll end up flaying yourself open to Artura. You don’t want that,_ Blue reminds himself. He clenches the glass tighter in his hands, looking down at his reflection in the amber liquid. This is not the place to think about the things that keep him up at night. This is not the place to pick out the darkened circles underneath his eyes, the slump in his shoulders, the defeated look that he locks up in his face...

He bares his teeth back at his reflection and kicks back the glass. The liquid burns hot against his throat, shocking the music out of his system, the lights returning and blinding him. It’s all too much all at once and Blue pitches forward with his now-empty glass in his hands. The air around him grows too hot, freezing him in place. He’s looking down at his clenched fist in his lap, the glass sticking to his fingers where he’s squeezing it tight. Pressure bears down on him, heavy, oppressive. His breaths run quick, his lungs burning from the lack of air. What enters leaves too fast, not enough to sustain him. He can see his arms shaking, but everything is growing increasingly far away. The music is muted, distant. All he can hear is his own heartbeat pumping rapid behind his throat. His fingernails carve crescents into his palm, the tiny pinpricks of pain keeping him tethered to his body. Sweat beads down the back of his neck as he squeezes his eyes shut, forcing himself to take deep breaths. 

_Not now,_ he pleads. _Not now. Later. Not now. When I’m alone in bed, sure. Please, not now. Not with so many people around._ He forces another deep breath, lets his nails bury themselves deeper into his palm. Sound starts to return with each inhale, the incoming panic leaving with each exhale. Beats resonate with concern behind his throat. Blue takes hold of them and counts in fours along with it under his breath. 

_One, two, three, four._

He shouldn’t be here alone.

_Two, two, three, four._

He’s missing something. Something really important.

_Three, two, three, four._

Some _one_ really important.

_Four, two, three, four._

His name isn’t Blue, but he made it his. He moved away from all the people that knew his old name, cut off ties with those who didn’t want Blue. It haunts him, why he’s so adamant about being named after a color. 

_Five, two, three, four._

That’s what they call him, in his dreams. Blue likes the way it leaves their lips, how it drops his shoulders and makes him feel like he belongs. 

_Six, two, three, four._

No one there scrunches their noses whenever he tells them his name. No one looks at him like he’s crazy, no one jokes that his mom must have named him after the first thing she saw.

_Seven, two, three, four._

No, there he is a hero and he is wanted and loved. He has friends that listen, a purpose that fulfills, a life worth living.

_Eight, two, three—_

Someone collides into his back, making him fling forward and nearly smash his head into the bar. Anger boils in his blood as he turns around, teeth bared and ready to snap. “Hey! Watch where you’re... going...” Blue trails off as he gets a good look at the offender.

Golden hair bounces in front of deep blue eyes, framing a rounded face that looks too eerily similar to be a coincidence. He’s wearing a thin red jacket that bounces around with him as he turns to apologize. “Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry!” he says, his voice a high tenor that reflects Blue’s bass. “I got pushed around, I’m sorry!” He smiles nervously at Blue, anxiety coloring his face.

Blue blinks, opening and closing his mouth trying to find words. “I... uh. I-It’s fine. Really. It’s fine,” he stutters. “Sorry. I got—you startled me. That’s all.” He weakly smiles back as his blood runs cold. 

The boy beams back at him and waves as he disappears back into the throng of bodies. Blue stares, following his head as he weaves his way through the people, dumbfounded. _That... no. It couldn’t be... could it?_

“He’s cute,” Artura says next to him.

Blue jumps, adrenaline rushing though him. “Huh?”

Artura points towards the crowd. “The kid that ran into you. He’s cute, isn’t he? You didn’t snap out at him. Right?” He elbows Blue, waggling an eyebrow. “You should talk to him!”

Blue turns back to the throng of pulsing bodies. He can still pick out golden hair out of the mess of heads. “I know him,” he breathes, dazed.

“Oh? From where?” 

Blue sets down his glass, standing on weak knees. The sound fades around him, a singular light following the bob of golden hair. “A dream I had. A lot of dreams I’ve had,” he says. He pushes himself away from the bar, Artura’s protests falling on deaf ears as he starts to weave his way through the crowd, anxiety clutching at his throat. _It can’t be. It can’t. I drank too much. I must be seeing things. It’s impossible. It can’t be._

But Artura saw him too. He’s not just a figment of his imagination.

Blue redoubles his efforts, shoving his way around until he breaks out of the crowd, panic setting in when he looks around and doesn’t spot him. He sees the doors starting to swing close, and trips his way outside, cool air shocking his senses. He whips his head down the streets, chest heaving. _Where is he. Where is he? I can’t lose him. No. No. Where is he, where is he, where is he?!_

Across the street, Blue sees a red jacket turn down a corner. A strangled cry escapes his throat as he runs towards him on unsteady feet, the ground rippling beneath him. Tears sting the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision further. _Damn it all, I shouldn’t have drank so much!_

He flies around the corner, breaths coming fast, wildly looking around for that speck of red. Cars drive past, bringing with them an airstream that hits his face and threatens to drag him away. It’s starting to sprinkle lightly, each fleck of rain stinging his skin, warping the city into a mess of ripples and colors. _There!_ He skids around another block, nearly tripping over himself. 

Neon lights hiss above him as he continues to run, splashing through the colors that have bled into the puddles out into discordant wild notes. He’s focused solely on that red jacket swaying in front of him, the owner pulling up the hood, walking faster, twisting through corners and speeding through alleyways. Blue can feel his body becoming unbalanced, his lungs burning for a break, his legs growing numb with the increasing pain. _No, no, no, no, no!_ Blue grits his teeth, pushing aside the pain. He can feel it later when he’s somewhere else. Not here. Not now.

Blue trips his way around another block and hisses a breath through his teeth. This is one of the more popular areas in town, crowds starting to form as they leave their areas of choice. Blue cranes his neck over the crowd, desperately trying to see that spot of red, that bit of color that could turn his whole life around. He starts to push his way through, unheeding of how rough he’s being with other people’s shoulders, nearly all but shoving them away from him. This is _important._ Can’t everyone else tell? 

His heart soars when he spots that red jacket, only a few yards away. A pathway seems to open itself before him, people parting around him so he can have a straight shot. Blue doesn’t hesitate, breaths puffing as he closes the distance. He reaches out, throwing his hand onto his shoulder. “Red!”

The momentum turns him around, and Blue can feel his entire body freeze as he sees his face. Long purple hair frames a scowl as he sizes up Blue. “Excuse me?” he snaps. “I don’t think I know you.”

Blue pulls his hand away. He can feel the freezing rain run down the back of his neck, making him shiver. “I-I’m sorry. I mistook you for someone else,” he stammers after a moment. 

The man frowns as he smells the alcohol on Blue’s breath. “Perhaps you should lay off a couple drinks, yeah?” With that, he twists on his heel and follows the rest of the crowd, leaving Blue with his arm outstretched. 

Blue bites the inside of his cheek, wincing when he tastes blood on his tongue, but it gets him to move. He wanders to the side of a building and slumps against it, tears stinging the edges of his eyes, threatening to fall. He shoves his hands into his pockets, turning away from the streetlights and crowds as he takes a shaky breath. It starts to pour heavily, drenching him within seconds. Blue relinquishes his hold on his tears, letting them mix with the rain. It’s all he can do to stop himself from screaming into the sky, to let his anguish join the distant rumbling thunder. His knees buckle beneath him, and he lets himself slide down the wall, uncaring how dirty his clothes are going to get, mixing with the rain and muck.

Some people look at him as they pass by, quickly turning their faces away when his eyes dart over to them. He’s just another wretched drunk, ready to pass out on the side of the street. On any other day, Blue would snap at them. But, on any other day, he wouldn’t have left the club, chasing after a fragment of his past. He wouldn’t have let himself get lost on the city streets, he wouldn’t have let himself show this sort of weakness in public. It was too late now, however.

Blue wraps his arms around himself, shivering. _What were you expecting?_ he thinks bitterly. _They don’t exist. You only saw what you wanted to see. They never have existed, and will never exist. And now look at you. Having a breakdown on the side of the street. Fucking pathetic. Get yourself home first at least, dumbass._

For all the poking and prodding he gives himself, he can’t force himself to get up and leave. The knot in his chest is too much, and he’s too far gone to care about how other people see him. He throws his head back, letting out an anguished howl, then another when he regains his breath. He throws his arm over his eyes, blocking out the people giving him stares. Blue grasps his hand on the ground, feeling hurt kick his chest when all that greets him is mud. Soon enough, his howls turn to silent sniffles that shake his entire frame. Neon signs buzz angrily above him, and even the nightlife starts to die down by the time he’s able to pick himself up off the ground.

Blue’s legs are as unsteady as his breaths when he begins his long walk home. He deliberately keeps his focus down at his shoes, stuffing down every jump his heart makes when he sees red out of the corner of his eye. His chance is gone. 

His chance never existed in the first place.


	2. Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i got possessed by some sort of writing demon because i wrote this all in one sitting and stayed up all night. Lucky for y'all! And I've figured out the entire plotline to this and it's gonna be a long boy. so buckle up, hang on tight, and enjoy the ride >:3c

When Blue wakes, he doesn’t want to open his eyes. There’s sure to be too bright a light peeking through his curtains, and he knows that headache is looming, just waiting for him to be awake enough to strike. _I don’t have to go anywhere today,_ Blue thinks hazily. _So I don’t need to get out of bed._ He tosses to his other side, grimacing as he hits back down, grasping for his covers to throw over his head. _Time. What time is it? If it’s not too late, maybe it’d be better for me to get a few things done._ He throws his arm out behind him, pawing for the nightstand holding his phone. 

His hands meet nothing but air. Panicked, Blue opens his eyes and flips back over, tossing the blankets away from his face. His heart stops as he takes in his surroundings. Stone walls surround him, the quarters austere but neatly kept. Dusty sunlight is bunching up against a ratty curtain, peeking through in waving intervals. 

_This isn’t my room._ Blue clenches the blankets in his fists as he sits up. _What happened last night?_ He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to think through the haze. _I went to the club. I saw—no, I didn’t. I got home. I almost dropped my keys. Drank water. Went to bed. I didn’t—no, I did lock the door. But who would want to kidnap me? No one from the circuit hates me that much. And why keep me here, instead of just offing me?_

Blue frowns as he studies the room further. Near the window, a small desk and chair, neatly folded clothes hanging over the edge. Boots paired together at the side of the bed. Gleaming metal poking out of a scabbard hanging off the bedpost, the sapphire in the hilt catching the sun and reflecting it back into his eyes. 

Curiosity overshadows anxiety as Blue lifts the covers off of him and swings his feet out of bed. Standing up, he feels... shorter. Different, slightly. Like someone moved all his furniture an inch to the left. And that headache still hasn’t hit him yet. 

Blue takes the scabbard off the bedpost carefully, sitting back down on the bed with the sword in his lap. He unsheathes it halfway, inspecting the edge, as if it could tell him what was going on. But, he can’t deny that he likes the feeling of it in his hands. It feels strong and hardy, making him feel the same. If he focuses, he can imagine that he can feel the sword connecting to him, plugging one of the missing pieces in his heart. He sheathes it, and lets his head fall and hit the mattress again, staring at the ceiling. 

_I’m dreaming,_ Blue figures, now that his heart rate has slowed and he can think straight. _But this one is different. I’ve never been in control before._ He knits his eyebrows together, frowning. _I’ll still wake up hungover. Damn it._ Waking up once was already difficult. Doing it twice? Now that was just uncalled for. 

He runs his hand up and down the scabbard, relaxing as he feels the texture brush against his fingertips. It feels almost electric, touching an ancient relic of the past like this. Hyrule is nothing but a distant memory in his time, the magic of the royal family lost and diluted enough that only a few people now exhibit Hylian traits. They were more connected to whatever fabric held Hyrule together, and when that broke, so did they. 

Blue kicks his feet against the frame of the bed. Of course, he was one of those _lucky_ enough to have Hylian blood in him. It made him an easy target, growing up. His own parents didn’t even care for him. So, he did what he did best and cut ties, changing his name and moving to a place where no one would recognize him, grew his hair out long enough to cover his ears, and kept a low profile. 

The only advantage it gave him was being a little bit more recognizable in the boxing circuit, and for that he figures he should be grateful. People didn’t want to mess with them. He was already stronger than them, and the superstitious lot wanted nothing of his supposed “bad luck.” Those like him, _just_ different enough to be unnatural—it only made sense that people would make up things to other them further. 

Blue frowns. Was the guy he chased after last night Hylian? He was too inebriated to check. _Running after him like a fool,_ he grimaces. _And you didn’t get a full look at his face. You don’t even know for sure that was him. And you won’t know. He’s gone. Probably skipped town by now._ He feels his heart tug in his chest and the knot threaten to come back up again, but he chokes it down. He can cry later, when he’s actually awake. 

Though, he can’t deny how lifelike this dream feels. It’s more vivid than any other he’s had. He’s never _been_ Blue before. Not like this. Usually he’s nothing but a stolen name, watching from his body in that dream way; able to feel what’s going on, but not conscious enough to input. Like he’s watching a movie but is the actor at the same time. 

He lives off of those scraps, able to pretend enough that he’s Blue, Hero of the Four Sword, with people who love and care about him, who are adamant about keeping his spirits up, and he’s able to do the same. But when he wakes, life comes crashing back down and he lives off of different spirits. They’re hollow, they don’t care, but they help him forget and they help him think he can enjoy his life somewhat.

Blue tightens his grip around the scabbard. He can philosophize about how shitty his life is when he wakes up. Might as well make use of this so he can feed his fantasies and later live off the leftovers. 

He jolts as he hears a knock on the door. _Fuck! I’m not ready!_ He jumps off the bed, tossing the sword to the side and grabbing the tunic hanging off of the chair and hurriedly pulls it over his head as he makes his way to the door. He flinches as the person knocks again. 

“Blue? You awake?”

His hand freezes right above the door handle. _Red..._

“Hello? Blue?”

His voice sounds _exactly_ like the boy in the club. Tears sting the edges of his eyes. Why did he have to drink so much? If he had been more sober, could he have caught up to him and known for sure if he was going crazy or not? He’s just desperate for some sort of contact, right? He’s only a stolen name and the others don’t exist beyond these dreams.

“I’m coming in,” Red announces. Blue sparks to life, quickly heading back towards the bed and sitting down right as Red opens the door. The smile Red gives him is dazzling, and Blue can pick out the concern in his eyes. “You doing okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Blue says gruffly, wincing inwardly as he hears how _off_ his voice is. The pitch is higher than what he’s used to. 

“Well,” Red trails off and he shuts the door and glides across the floor. Blue tenses as he sits next to him and brushes his shoulder. “You got hit in the head pretty hard, and you weren’t acting like yourself until we got you looked at.” Red stops, taking a breath. “I-I wanted to make sure you were still waking up. You really scared me, you know.” He turns to Blue, a sad smile on his face. “I know you don’t like having to just hang around doing nothing while you recover. Just... don’t do anything rash, okay?”

“I won’t.” The words spill easily from Blue’s lips. He takes a shaky breath, stunned, trying to process the information. _He’s-I have a concussion? I guess?_ What did he do, to make Red worry that he wouldn’t wake up? Just the initial incident—whatever that was—or something in the aftermath? _I can’t just ask him to recount everything,_ he grimaces. _I need to at least look like I belong and know what I’m doing._

He doesn’t know why he feels the need to play along so carefully. It is only a dream, after all. This couldn’t be real. Soon, he’ll make a misstep and wake up with a pounding headache, sprawled haphazardly underneath half of the sheets, wishing that he could just keep sleeping. Better to keep this going for as long as he can.

Blue jolts as Red finds his hand, tangling their fingers together. His skin is soft, and the way he squeezes Blue’s hand ever so slightly feels like the home Blue never had. Red lets his head roll onto Blue’s shoulder, slotting perfectly in place. “Thank you,” he sighs, brushing his thumb over Blue’s knuckles gently. 

Each brush across his skin tugs the knot in Blue’s chest upward, and his vision blurs as he tries to blink back tears. He’s never been touched so delicately. He’s never had someone speak to him with that kind of caring concern in their voice. He’s never had anyone who would go out of their way to make sure he’s okay. Growing up was all shouts and scars, culminating in him getting tossed out onto the streets and getting the door slammed back in his face. The most he’s ever gotten is just a few words of concern from Artura whenever he goes to the club on a particularly off day. And even then, he brushes that off as nonchalantly as he can, to keep up appearances. 

He bites his lower lip to keep it from trembling. The room is tilting sideways, the sunlight smearing together with the shadows, rounding corners until there’s nothing left but a blurry mess of colors. He can feel his heartbeat thunder in his throat, pushing up the knot with every beat. He tries to count a rhythm but it’s too erratic to be of any help. He chokes back a cry, and a tear escapes his eye and splashes on their hands.

“Blue?” Red’s reaction is immediate, pulling away from him so he can look at his face. He keeps his hand in Blue’s, holding it tighter and bringing it up to his chest. “Blue? What’s wrong?”

Blue chokes back a sob. He meets Red’s eyes—a mistake, as that only undoes him further. Red’s looking at him with so much worry—fretting and worrying over _him._ Blue darts his eyes to anywhere but Red’s. He can’t meet them. He’s stealing a private moment. He doesn’t deserve that kind of concern. He can take care of himself. He’s always taken care of just himself. He doesn’t...

Blue collapses right into Red’s shoulder, a surprised squeak escaping him as Blue wraps his arms around him, sobbing openly into the crook of his neck. The emotions he’s been stuffing down break out all at once, making him shake with each wail and howl. Every bit of Red pressed up against him feels like fire, something so foreign but comforting.

“Oh, Blue,” Red says softly. He returns the hug, rubbing his back and brushing his hand through Blue’s hair. He murmurs _shh_ and _it’s okay, I’m here_ repeatedly into Blue’s ear, his voice even and calm. He adjusts his position on the bed, pulling Blue with him until he’s almost on Red’s lap. 

_So much for acting normal,_ Blue thinks bitterly as he lets himself relax into Red, still trying to hold his cries to be something more controlled than the painful wails that rip through his throat. He shouldn’t be breaking down like this, not with someone so near and dear to him. And, by all technicalities, _he_ doesn’t know Red. Not like his counterpart does. But Red’s presence is still comforting, still something that Blue desperately needed. He lets himself completely break down, the knot untying itself slowly but surely. Each pass Red makes through his hair stills his shaking, every whispered word hushing his cries. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Red murmurs once Blue stops shaking so hard against him, his tears now silent. “You know you can always talk to me, right?”

“Red,” Blue’s voice is a broken waver. He can’t talk about what he’s experiencing, not when everything he’d say would be so foreign to this world. No, that will still have to go into the notebook on his nightstand, then that page will be ripped out and thrown into the fireplace soon enough. 

Red loosens his grip, starting to pull away from Blue. In a moment of selfishness, Blue pulls him back, pressing himself as close as he can to him. Red relaxes back into him, tangling his fingers into Blue’s hair again. 

“Red,” Blue chokes out after a moment. _Stop. Stop, you’re going too far. Dream or not._

“Yes, Blue?” Red breathes back. His voice is so kind.

Blue swallows back more tears. He’s being selfish. He’s going too far in. Even if it is just a dream, he shouldn’t be using Red like this. Red doesn’t know him, Red trusts Blue and he is not Red’s Blue. “Red, can you promise me something?” 

“Anything, Blue.” 

Guilt rises hot in Blue’s throat. Red trusts him so much, to already agree to anything before Blue even says it. And here he is, stealing his skin, pretending to be someone he’s not. Blue stuffs the guilt back down, the guilt tasting like bile in the back of his throat. _Dream or not, I don’t care. This feels..._ “Red, just—just please don’t let me go.”

“I won’t,” Red says fervently, tightening his grip around Blue. 

That pit in his heart is threatening to overtake him again, to throw him on the side of the street so he can break down in the rain again, alone and unloved. “Don’t run away from me,” Blue begs, “Please don’t run from me. Please, don’t run. Please, don’t run. Don’t run. Don’t...” Blue’s words devolve into wordless hiccups and sobs.

“Never.” Red’s voice is full of a quiet fury. “I would never run away from you. I love you, Blue. I would never run away from you.”

Blue squeezes his eyes shut, and he can see that red jacket swaying in front of him, twisting and turning through the streets, trying to shake him off. He buries his face into Red’s neck, taking a deep breath, memorizing the way Red smells—like everything sweet, like sugar and maple and cinnamon. He can pretend for now that he _did_ catch up to him, that they’re under some awning with the streetlights shining down on them, laughing and crying as they take each other in. _Blue, you’ve gotten so tall!_ Red would say, hugging him. His head would only barely reach to Blue’s chin, where they could fit together so perfectly. _You never grew up,_ he’d reply, and they would link hands together and walk down the streets, talking freely, no destination in mind. He’d feel that elation he’s been chasing after, the one that clears his mind that he can only grasp for the few minutes he’s in the ring. He’d be complete.

“I love you too, Red,” he says, blinking away the scene. _He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He doesn’t exist. He’s not real._ He buries his face into Red’s hair, uncaring that a few tears have escaped him and are running down the back of Red’s neck, making him shiver into him. Blue squeezes him tightly, savoring each brush his of skin, every finger Red combs through his hair, each quiet conviction Red whispers in his ear. 

It’ll be gone when he wakes up. Blue hopes he can live off of the scraps.

Blue eventually relaxes and lets Red out of his grip. His eyes hurt, his face is red and he doesn’t think he could cry anymore even if he wanted to. Red slides his hands down Blue’s neck and down his arms, latching onto Blue’s hands. 

“You feeling better?” Red says. His eyes are still so bright. 

Blue nods, not trusting himself to speak. He doesn’t want to break himself down again, and any word he lets slip could be his undoing. He doesn’t want to ruin another life.

“Want to go downstairs? Green and Vio are waiting.” Red stands up, tugging Blue to do the same. He follows, knees nearly buckling as he stands next to Red. 

“I...” That’s right. There’s more people. The thought is overwhelming to him. This isn’t like watching people from the bar. All of these people know him. All these people _care._ They’ll all want to talk and make sure he’s okay. “Yeah. I think I’m ready,” he says, trying to keep the uncertainty out of his voice. 

He’s not ready. But he doesn’t want to disappoint Red.

Red beams back at him. “Okay!” He spins around, grabbing Blue’s Four Sword and hat. Blue takes the sword into his hands while Red puts on his hat. Blue buckles the sword around his chest, the weight familiar against his back. “Now you look presentable,” he smiles, taking Blue’s hand and walking him out of his room. 

With every step, Blue starts to feel fatigued, then nauseated, then dizzy. Hallways spin around him, Red the only constant that he can hold onto. His knees start to buckle, blackness encroaching on the edges of his vision. His head feels like it’s going to explode, his feet are suddenly the heaviest weight, he’s drank too much and can’t focus his vision. “Red,” he says weakly. 

“Blue!”

Blue sees Red’s face, etched with worry, as he pitches forward, and the world goes black.

\---

Black goes from grey to white, and when Blue opens his eyes, he’s alone in his bed, spread-eagle and still wearing the dirty clothes he stumbled around in last night. His head is pounding in a terrible triplet rhythm. He feels grimy, dirty, awful. His eyes _hurt,_ already dry and puffy. Blue notes as he lifts his head that his pillow is stained with tears. He winces as he flips himself onto his back. That dream... 

He can feel bad about that later.

His phone vibrates violently on his nightstand and he grimaces as the sound joins the rhythm roaring in his head. _What alarm did I forget to turn off,_ Blue grumbles, reaching for it. He freezes when he sees what’s sitting on his phone screen.

_Rent is due. Today, 10pm. See you at the Empty Set._

Blue groans. _I thought that was next week._ He checks the time, then checks it again when it didn’t stick the first time. _It’s already three. Fuck._

Blue lifts himself up, bleary-eyed, and swings his feet over the bed. He eyes his notebook, but figures that he’s too beat up to write anything right now. Besides, he’s not going to forget that dream anytime soon, not when it was that vivid. Blue wonders idly if he went back to sleep now, he’d be able to jump back into the dream right where he left off. But no, he’s still going to have to rise and pretend to be a functioning member of society, and that means getting clean and not looking like he died in the streets last night. 

Blue runs a hand through his hair, already feeling a pang in his chest as he remembers Red doing the same. He sighs, pushing himself off the bed.

Today is going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can someone please help him
> 
> (don't forget to like, comment, and subscribe)


	3. Void

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this got out of hand. With this chapter I've doubled the word count of what's already posted plus some. Of course, I won't be able to update as frequently as I would like, so I don't know if I can in good conscience give a rough schedule, but I would like to release at least once every two weeks if possible. School unfortunately must come first. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Blue wakes up and he grumbles as he realizes he’s back in the infirmary. _I just got out of here! What happened?_ He slowly shimmies himself out of the covers, looking around the room. Again, he’s the only one there—besides Red, who’s fallen asleep on the chair near his bedside. 

On any other day, he would feel a little annoyed that Red did this to himself _again,_ worrying himself so much that he would end up battering his own body. But, alone in the dark beside empty beds, Blue can let it slide. 

“Hey. Hey, Red,” he leans over, poking Red’s knee. “Red, wake up. Red? Red! Wake up!”

Red jolts awake, panic in his eyes, relaxing when he realizes where he is and sees Blue. “Oh, you’re awake,” he mumbles. He unfolds himself out of the chair and onto the side of Blue’s bed, sinking down into Blue’s lap. 

Blue lets him get away with it, only because they’re the only two there and Red’s hair is soft between his fingers. “Yeah. How are you? How long did you stay there?”

“Since after you passed out,” Red says sleepily. “I’ve been here since morning. I wanted to stay until you woke up.” He finds one of Blue’s hands, holding it tight. “You feeling better?”

“I think so?” Blue says. “But I also don’t remember coming back here in th—”

“No, no. From this morning,” Red interrupts. “You weren’t feeling good. At all. Are you feeling better from then?” 

Blue scrunches his brow, trying to cast his memory to earlier that day. “I-I don’t remember,” he says, voice wavering. “Everything after last night, it’s all just a fog. I don’t remember anything.” He tenses, blood running cold. What did he forget? His own mind is fighting against him, blocking all memory of the day. “Red, what happened this morning?” he says slowly.

Red raises his head off of Blue’s lap, turning to look at him. “You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“At all?”

“Nothing, Red. There’s literally nothing there. I remember going to bed and waking up here. That’s it.”

Red purses his lips. He plays with Blue’s hand for a moment before speaking, “You-you had a really awful breakdown. You wouldn’t let go of me, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cry so loudly.”

Blue frowns. _I feel like I’d remember something like that. Sounds intense._ “Was anyone else around?”

“No. I came to wake you up on my own.” Red catches him with his sapphire eyes. They’re so bright, even with Red being as tired as he is. “You really remember nothing?”

“Nothing.” The thought is terrifying, forgetting entire days of his life. “Red, what happened?”

The mattress lurches underneath them as Red picks himself up to sit down next to Blue, still squeezing his hand. He lays his head on Blue’s shoulder, knitting his eyebrows together. “I came in to wake you up, and I asked you to not hurt yourself with this whole thing. You said you wouldn’t, then I sat next to you like I usually do. It was—you acted like you’ve never had contact with anyone. Just me holding your hand was enough to send you into tears.”

Blue squeezes Red’s hand. That much? To send him into a panic attack? “Was there more?” he prods.

“Yes,” Red murmurs. “You held onto me so tightly. I don’t know if you had a nightmare where I died or something—I was hoping you would remember—because you made me promise to never let you go. And that I would never run away. I’ve never seen you so _broken,_ Blue. You cried until you couldn’t anymore, but not in your regular way.” Red takes a deep breath, then releases it slowly before continuing. “I know you generally like to keep quiet. It’s just what you do, because you’re a dummy and don’t want us worrying about you.”

Blue balks at the statement. “I’ve gotten better at it,” he mumbles.

“I know,” Red smiles at him. “I’m proud of that, too. But, you were full out wailing and howling until your throat went raw. You weren’t trying to keep quiet at all and it took you a really long time to calm down. And you wouldn’t let go of me at all. It was like if you weren’t squished up against me that part of me would disappear. It-it scared me, Blue. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was it really messed you up.”

“I don’t remember any of it,” Blue murmurs. He suppresses a shiver, squeezing Red’s hand. “That bad?”

“That bad.”

“Wow,” Blue leans his head back against the wall. The stone feels cold against his head, washing its way down his spine in a creeping shiver. “Even when I’ve had those types of nightmares I don’t remember it getting that bad, ever. Did we switch places or something? I’d believe it if you did all that.”

Red laughs quietly. “Maybe.” He moves his head so it’s resting against Blue’s chest. “I don’t know why you didn’t say anything before you passed out too. I noticed you looked a little lost, but I figured it was because you were trying to get out of that whole thing, but you let me drag you until you just... passed out.”

“We had a system,” Blue says, more to himself than to Red. “And I didn’t remember any of it?”

“Nothing,” Red replies softly. “Blue, are you doing okay?”

Blue bites his lip. _I forgot everything? And I had that bad of a breakdown?_ “I don’t know anymore,” he whispers. Scenarios flash through his head, and he sifts through them, ending only with the worst cases. “Red?”

“Hmm?” 

Blue is silent. He passes his hand through Red’s hair a few times to gather his thoughts. “Do you—do you think that the Four Sword is running out of power? And that I’m the first one to go?”

“Don’t,” Red hisses vehemently, startling Blue. “Don’t say that. Zelda said that we were going to be _fine,_ and I’m not going to lose you to a sword powering down. If it is, then we’ll die together.”

The anger emanating from Red makes Blue’s throat tighten. It’s not often that Red gets set off by something, and it’s hardly ever directed at him. “But what if it’s true?” 

“It’s not,” Red growls. “Listen, it’s probably just a side effect. They did say that memory loss is possible and this still fits in to that criteria. Mood swings as well. We’re not going to jump to conclusions,” he says cooly. “This was one time. If it happens again,” he pauses, adjusting himself on Blue’s chest, “we can start keeping a journal or something. We can write it together so if you forget we have proof, and maybe it will jog your memory too. And if it happens after you’re healed _then_ we can take it to worst-case scenarios.”

Blue hums, running his fingers through Red’s hair. “Okay. I can live with that.”

“Good,” Red says. He shifts again, sighing against Blue’s chest. Without that spike of anger fueling him, Red wilts, head growing heavier, eyes drooping. 

“Hey,” Blue murmurs. “If you’re going to sleep with me, don’t you want to be comfortable at the very least?” 

Red sighs, lifting himself up. “Yes.” He reluctantly slides off the bed while Blue gets the blankets situated. Once it meets his standards, he beckons to Red to join him. Red curls up next to him, and soon he’s already starting to drift away.

 _It’s late,_ Blue figures, _and there’s no one else around._ He takes one last look around the room, then huddles up next to Red. He begins to hum, taking a tune that’s been stuck in his head and translating it out. It’s not something he remembers hearing, but it makes his heart tug all the same. He’s been experiencing a lot of those sorts of things lately.

Red sighs next to him. It’s not all too often that Blue decides to showcase his voice, but it helps Red to relax, and after the day he’s had he’s more than earned it. Blue continues to hum until Red’s breaths even out, then hums to himself until his own thoughts have slowed down to a manageable pace. When he stops, the room is quiet except for Red’s breathing, so he grabs onto that and lets his mind play with unknown rhythms until he finally falls into the oblivion of sleep.

\---

Blue’s head is still pounding, but it’s calmed down enough to be manageable and he’s cleaned himself up enough that he doesn’t feel the need to jump into the river channel. Water still clings to the back of his neck from his shower, but the afternoon sun should take care of that soon. He grabs the keys on his counter, shoulders his pack, and steps out of his apartment. Looking back at it as he locks the door, he’s glad that at least he’s been okay enough to keep it somewhat tidy. Sure, there’s some clothes on his bedroom floor and some dishes piling up in the sink, but that’s just clutter. He can deal with some clutter. 

It’s the days that he can’t bring himself to clean anything that he fears. The days where he can hardly roll himself out of bed, the days where he seeks spirits before thinking, the days where he numbs himself enough that the dark hangs heavy behind his eyes, ready to take him once he brings himself one drink too far. 

The locks click into place and Blue shoves the keys into his pockets, heading his way down the stairs and to the outside. The sun is blinding, making the rumbling ache in his head flare up with the light. He shoves his hands into his pockets, staring down at his shoes as he walks. He’s got some time to kill; a couple hours to himself, and he intends on spending them _away_ from his apartment. The place feels too small to hold his pacing, but too big for just him alone to stay in. But, housing is housing and Blue figures he should be grateful that his boss is willing to provide. Otherwise, he’d be lost on the streets again, nowhere to go, nothing to work towards. Just him and his thoughts as cold concrete stabs daggers into his back, awkward steel structures blocking any place that he could comfortably lay down and sleep. He still doesn’t understand why he pulled him off the streets, gave him a purpose and a house to go home to. It was all Blue was ever hoping for, somewhere away from the cold, somewhere away from the people that hated him, somewhere that was _his_ space and his space only.

The only problem was the rent.

He didn’t have to worry about scrounging up enough money each month—everything was already paid for and anything he won from the matches was for him alone. No, his “rent” was something that Blue wasn’t too particularly proud of. Every few weeks, he would get a text with a time and location, and he was there to be their assigned muscle. Sometimes they would just track down a person, rough them up a little and leave, but other days they would be breaking into someplace, and Blue was always in charge of making sure whoever was around was taken care of quietly, and that their exit was left open. He dreaded each text, but at the very least he tried to get through it all as quick and painless as possible. 

Sometimes he’s able to just look intimidating enough that he doesn’t have to hurt anyone back, and those are the rents he doesn’t mind paying. He’s hoping for one of those days, something easy to deal with so he can hurry back home and sleep off the rest of his headache. Meeting at the Set, though—that didn’t bode well for him.

Blue shakes his head, grimacing. He shouldn’t think about that right now. It always made him too antsy, trying to predict what he would have to do. The days where he does have to fight innocent bystanders, where he has to go further than he’d like and seriously injure someone, they haunt him when he lays in bed at night. He feels a spike of anger at those who don’t listen, who try to be brave enough to fight back rather than leave. They won’t win against him. They’re just trying fulfill some sort of fantasy, and the bubble pops the instant Blue swings his fist. None of them have ever gotten close enough to hurt him, much less win against him. He’s just too good at his job. 

Bass rumbles beneath his feet as a car passes by with its windows down, blasting music. It clashes against his head, and he raises it, glaring as it rushes by, leaving him looking at empty air only a moment later. Wind rushes past him, tugging him down the street. Blue complies, and his hand feels heavy as he remembers Red, pulling him down the hallway. He clenches his fist in his pocket, nails embedding themselves into his palm. He should cut them soon. They’re getting long. 

What would Red have to say to that? To those pinpricks of pain that he gives himself, to keep him awake and afloat? Red wouldn’t want him to hurt himself. Blue purses his lips, and speeds up his steps. Each footfall pounds its way through his entire body, until it’s thumping in time with his throat. His mouth feels dry. The sun blazes hot on his shoulders but it doesn’t compare to the heat Blue felt against him last night. The sun is a dead thing cooling on the ground, compared to Red. 

Blue swallows hard. He shouldn’t think about that right now. He’s got a job to do later and he can’t be distracted more than he already is. It’s bad enough he’s going to be showing up hungover. That thundering in his head is enough a distraction, and he doesn’t want to find out what will happen if he doesn’t do what he’s told. 

He can feel dread creeping up the back of his spine, and he feels like there’s eyes boring into him, waiting for him to make some sort of mistake so he can be thrown out and alone again. He quickly whips his head around, but there’s no one behind him. Cars fly by, bringing crosswinds that tug Blue two different ways. _Maybe I should just go back home,_ he thinks, gritting his teeth. The dread is following him, snapping at his heels, roaring in his head. Blue stops, wavering on his feet. _But would staying home be any better?_ There, he’ll be alone, where he’s safe to think his thoughts and feel his feelings. But there, there also holds his vices and the dark at every corner, threatening to push into him and rend him to shreds from the inside out. 

He feels the back of his throat burn as he starts himself back up again, continuing on his way. No, he needs to be in a public area right now, so he can recover enough to do his job and not send himself spiralling back down. There’s plenty of time later where he can do that. Right now he needs to make sure he still has a house to do that in. 

By the time he reaches the coffee shop, his feet feel heavy and uncertain, and he feels like something has been draining him of energy. The glass door resists him as he pulls, then gives way with a rush of air. The smell invigorates him enough to relax his shoulders as he strides his way to the counter. The place is fairly empty, only a few people scattered about, some gathered in groups, others isolating themselves behind laptops and books. 

Val is working behind the counter again. He’s a recent addition to their team, and Blue likes talking with him. He’s quiet and kind, and while they hardly talk about anything in particular, he _is_ someone to talk to and he can listen to Val prattle on about what he did during the past week, the customer with the nightmare order, his unsuccessful dates. He doesn’t have to say much in return, which he doesn’t mind. Val could have an entire conversation by himself if he wanted to.

Blue takes a deep breath, the smell of the shop scaring away the dread on his spine, and he straightens up, squaring out his shoulders. He feels lighter already, the pounding in his head quieting, his breaths coming easier to him. Music plays quietly around him, something soft with a leisurely beat, a song that shares bits and pieces with hundreds of others, but is still distinct enough to be its own. Like it’s hiding in plain sight. 

Blue taps his finger against his thigh with the rhythm as he looks at the menu. He frowns, pursing his lips. Nothing is really jumping out to him today, nothing looks quite right enough to lessen the pounding, to shock his system awake so he can function normally later tonight. 

“Hey Blue!” Val spins around on his feet and smiles at him. “Haven’t seen you for a bit.”

“Yeah. Been busy,” Blue replies tersely. _Busy doing nothing but sitting around the house,_ he amends silently. His eyebrows knit together as he reads over the menu again.

“Can’t decide?” Val asks, leaning on the counter.

Blue shakes his head. “Nothing’s calling out to me, but I want _something._ ”

“I could decide for you?” Blue looks at him, and he notices that Val’s added a stylized heart next to his name on his nametag. He’ll have to ask what occasion called for that later. 

“Sure,” Blue shrugs. “Just nothing too dark. I’m bitter enough already.”

“We’ll just have to counteract that, then!” Val bounces off the counter, and Blue turns to take a seat at the edge of the bar. He crosses his legs, puts his head in one of his hands and continues to tap along to the rhythm on his thigh. This is one of the few places around that doesn’t have their sound cranked up to where it drowns out everything else. Blue can listen in to conversations around here if he wanted to, along with just people-watching in general. He can sit unnoticed near the corner of the shop, where his back is turned against the wall but he can still see everyone else. No one to sneak up on him, far enough away that people assume he can’t hear what they’re saying.

His hearing, of course, is better than most. He’s Hylian. If he cared to, he could cast his hearing out to the very edges of the shop and still understand what people were saying. Alone in his corner, he can be cast aside without a second thought. Invisible to the world, hidden in plain sight. Always listening.

He doesn’t care much to listen to people today though, so instead he focuses in on the music coming out of the shop speakers, humming along quietly to himself. He can see Val’s lips upturn slightly—he’ll be one of the few lucky enough to hear him. He’s seen the pointed tips of his ears peek out behind his mess of hair. 

The song changes from quarter time to six-eight, and Blue doesn’t skip a beat. There are days where he can beat back the darkness with music instead of booze. He can drift away sprawled on his couch, letting colors twist and burst in front of a blackened canvas. Sunlight will drift its way down the window, bowing out in pinks and purples before letting the silver moonlight spill in through the cracks in his curtains. Hours will be spent there, tapping away and letting nothing but sound infiltrate his mind. Occasionally, he hums, and rarely, he sings. Some days he goes to sleep with his throat sung raw, but it’s better than sleeping with a throat gone burning. 

Blue closes his eyes, continuing to hum. He wonders idly what Red would think of his voice. Would it be too deep, too much like a low-rumbling storm to be comfortable to listen to? Or would the vibrations be enough to calm him, the way Red’s voice was able to? His voice _was_ higher, in the dream. Perhaps only that range would be what Red would want to listen to, that his real voice was too far off into the deep. Too harsh, for someone as soft as him. After all, the Red he bumped into the club had the same voice—

Blue’s hum turns into a growl. _That wasn’t Red. Stop kidding yourself._ He can’t linger on the thought, he can’t keep thinking about that red jacket swaying in front of him, teasing him, before losing him to the crowd forever. It picks apart at his seams, unknotting his sanity bit by bit. Blue tries to pull himself out of his thoughts but now the sound plays discordant in his ears and he loses the rhythm in his fingers. His eyes flare open, his hand tightens into a fist with nails stabbing into his palm to shock him away from that memory. 

Val comes up to him with his drink in hand, and it takes all of Blue’s willpower to not snap out at him. Blue’s thanks dries in his mouth but the sentiment is still there enough that Val recognizes it. Val smiles back at him, but Blue sees it not quite reach his eyes. He slides off the seat and stalks his way over to his corner, clutching his coffee in his hands and letting its heat burn into him.

Notes play dissonant in his ears, grating against one another, each one vying for his attention and clawing their way in and out with each beat. The tempo is painfully slow, lingering next to him for moments too long. Blue grits his teeth, taking his attention to outside of the shop, wishing that the sound could all stop and he could be back in bed with nothing but the wind filtering soft through his window. He waits, watching people flit in and out of the shop, some wandering in like they had no idea their feet were taking them there in the first place, others coming in dead-eyed with Val’s greetings bouncing off of them ineffectively. 

The heat in his palms has calmed down enough that Blue chances a drink. It still burns his tongue, and it pangs his heart as he tastes sweet cinnamon hang behind in his throat. He takes a deep breath, and he smells Red rising from the cup. He drains it quickly, uncaring to the numbness that follows each heated sip. He can’t think about Red, he _can’t,_ or else he’ll end up running back home, seeking to forget. He has a job to do. 

_Red wouldn’t want you to be doing this,_ Blue thinks, the cup crumpling slightly beneath his grip. _Not very heroic of you, he’d say. Getting myself caught in between the underground, having to do these unpleasant things to survive._ It’s not something he’s proud of. He hates it, but would Red understand that? That he has to do this to survive? He can’t live on the streets again. It was hard enough surviving the first time. Hasn’t he already suffered enough?

Blue releases his grip and reaches down into his pack. He feels around for the roll of gauze, feels it slip through his fingers twice. It’s part of his act, something that makes him look more intimidating than he is. Blue finds the edge, pulling it out slowly, grimacing as he hears it tick away against itself. He threads it through his fingers, covering his palms in a careful pattern, wraps it once, twice, three times around his wrists. He holds out his arm, covering it up in parallel patterns up his forearm before clipping it and tying it off. He does the same to his other arm, opening and closing his fists to make sure everything passes by right. Neatly folded in his pack is his jacket, the one that makes his shoulders look wider, the sleeves cuffed back above his elbows. It’s made of a thick, dense black fabric that hangs heavy on his shoulders, the back emblazoned with a singular inverted triangle, one that seems to glow yellow in the correct light. Blue takes it out, shrugging it on before leaning back into his chair, threading his fingers and casting his gaze up to the ceiling. There, he lets his hearing fall to wherever it wants, and he lets himself drift, catching snippets of conversations, chords of music, indistinct scrapes and squeaks of people leaving their areas. Blue closes his eyes, and forces himself to see anything other than Red sitting beside him, his hand heavy in Blue’s, content to sit in silence with one another.

\---

Blue hates the Empty Set. He’s always hated the Set, he will always hate the Set. It’s near the edges of the town, nowhere near Highrise, and is everything Highrise isn’t. Smoke pervades the air as Blue pushes the door in, eyes watering at the scent. It seems innocuous enough—just another seedy pub at the ends of the city. But Blue knows better. This is just one of the areas his boss has requisitioned into a base. Everyone that comes here is from the circuit, or at the very least is some sort of underling. And even still, the few people Blue does like to talk to avoid this place as much as they can. It tastes of desperation, smells of hurt, feels like dread. The atmosphere settles heavy on Blue’s shoulders, invading his lungs and making it harder to breathe.

He jostles shoulders as he pushes his way towards the back. His partners should be here soon. Blue sits down, tense. There’s not even music playing in the background here. Nothing but shouts and arguments color the place, and they’re all nothing Blue wants to listen to. People pass by him, leering at him once they recognize him. He may be one of the best fighters, but that doesn’t give him any more friends. If anything, it just turns more people against him the higher he goes. Blue bites the inside of his cheek, letting himself go vacant to get himself away from the place.

Luckily he doesn’t have to wait long. Two men sit on either side of him, startling him out of his thoughts. On his left, a wide-shouldered man with a face that looks like ten miles of used road, on his right a thin, wiry man with dark skin and critical glare. 

“Blue,” the wiry man sneers.

“Asher,” Blue seethes back. 

“You remember Byrne?” Asher gestures to the wide-shouldered man. 

Blue remembers punching in Byrne’s already crooked nose in once or twice. He almost matched Blue in strength, and the fights he’s experienced with him left him bloodied and full of hate. Byrne used only the most underhanded tactics, hoping to slip by an opponent who would figure he’d stick somewhat to the rules. Blue could be just as underhanded, but he reserved that only for the people who slighted him first. 

“Sure,” Blue replies, voice cool. 

“Hmm. I’m surprised. One would think you would have lost all your memory with how much you drink,” Asher sniffs. “I don’t know why Eidolon keeps you around, but who am I to question him.” 

Blue can feel his shoulders rising. Asher is one of the privileged few that his boss actually talks to face to face, keeping them informed and then sending them out to give orders to the lower rungs. As great of a fighter as Blue is, he’s been deemed too untrustworthy to get anywhere near the inner circle. “I could say the same,” he says, fingers tightening into a fist.

“Oh, Blue,” Asher says, voice dripping with fake concern. “You should know by now that your kind isn’t welcome here. Tell me, how many other Hylians do you see here?” Asher points in front of him, and Blue can see black cat hair hanging off of his white sleeves. “What is it? Only one or two others? And look at them, getting themselves high or drunk, so they can forget about how _different_ they are from us normal folk. How _awful_ their bloodline is. One of your kind would only poison the pool if Eidolon let them close enough. After all, you never know when one of them will lash out suddenly, violently.” Asher slips his arm around Blue’s shoulders, jostling him so he’s right up against him. “That’s why you can only ever be a fighter, a useless entertainer. You’re too unpredictable, with that blood of yours.” 

Blue shrugs his way out of his grip, feeling his blood roil beneath his skin. There’s nothing more he’d like to do than punch Asher’s sneer off of his face, to offset that hawklike nose a little bit more to the left. But that’s exactly what Asher wants, so Blue swallows down his pride and instead balls his hands in his lap, stopping himself from shaking with rage. “Where are we going?” he asks instead, trying and failing to keep the anger from coloring his voice.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Asher says, standing up. Byrne rises along with him, and Blue follows suit. He saunters his way towards the back door, that smug look still on his face. He knows how to worm his way underneath Blue’s skin, and he enjoys doing so at any given opportunity. Blue hates that it gets to him so much. Asher is just a bully who’s been given far too much power. Asher is just as wretched as he is, using that power to put people in their place—below him. Blue just does so physically. He’s not one for words, and he can’t fight back all of the things Asher says about him. He’s put down, powerless, and if he were to fight back the way he knows how it would just prove every single word Asher has ever said about him.

Blue takes in a breath as he leaves the Set, still following behind Byrne. The air stings of exhaust, but it’s better than the choking smoke inside. He’ll have to scrub that smell out of his clothes later tonight. No matter how short a time he stayed inside the Set, it seemed to soak its way in, sticking onto his back and reminding him of those terrible rent outings, of Asher’s jeers, of the crack of an innocent’s bones against his fist. Unfortunate, as he did like this jacket a lot more than he should, for it being something he used as a prop. Heavy as it is, it’s still warm and soft on the inside, hugging him close and reminding him that perhaps he can still find a better lot in life, rather than getting himself tangled in these unsavory situations. 

Asher hops into a silver sedan, and Byrne all but shoves him into the backseat. Blue allows it to happen, though every instinct is burning at him to turn around and ram his fist into the already hideous face. He tastes blood spread across his tongue as he bites his cheek, the metallic tang mixing still with the smell of the Set stuck inside his nose. It pairs too well together. Blue’s skin starts to itch, the feeling of grime sticking to him and rubbing against him like sandpaper. 

The engine rumbles to life and soon streetlamps are flying by, their light flooding the interior and disappearing just as quickly as they came. Blue taps a rhythm against his thigh as he looks out the window, neon lighting splashing against dark-coated brick, streetlamps flooding the areas beneath them with a harsh yellow light, brightening up the faces of any that pass underneath. The car halts at an intersection, and Blue can study further the people he sees waiting near the traffic light, waiting for their signal to cross. 

There’s the blue and red neons of signs declaring that yes, they are still open, odd-angled signs lit up by solitary spotlights, the flooding of the lamps above pervading it all with a sickly yellow glow. Groups of people walk by, hands in pockets or articulating with conversations. He sees those groups laughing together, having a great night on the town. He sees people like him, hunched over and lonely, taking deliberate steps home as they stare at their shoes. 

The walk signal starts its countdown. Asher is tapping his finger against the steering wheel impatiently, mumbling under his breath about how terribly lined up these traffic lights are and maybe he should have taken that right earlier instead of assuming he’d hit all of them green. Blue huffs a breath at that. After all, he’s in the car, and he’s bad luck, a magnet for red lights and slow changing signals. He turns his attention back outside, counting down along with the walk signal. There’s only ten seconds left.

Out of the corner of eye, he sees golden hair bouncing over a rounded face, hands shoved into a familiar red jacket. Blue feels his throat go dry as he looks closer. Yes, that face is very familiar. More gaunt than the Red he saw in his dream, but still the same. He sees the way his eyes light up underneath the yellow floodlight, watching the countdown of the walk signal as he walks next to the side of the car, joining up with the rest of the waiting crowd. Blue can pick out the points of his ears underneath that golden hair. _Red..._

Before he can even think about leaving the car to chase after him the light turns, and Asher peels away from the intersection. Blue can only desperately turn his head back, watching as that red jacket sways away from him, yet again. 

_He’s still here,_ Blue can feel tears prick the corners of his eyes. _That was Red. He’s still here, and that wasn’t just me seeing things._ He holds back a shaky breath. He can _not_ break down anywhere near Asher. He watches as Red turns the corner, only barely suppressing a whine. _And now he’s gone again._

Blue turns his attention to his lap, counting his breaths to keep them even. He tugs at his arm wraps, biting his lip. He can’t let himself think about Red, about Red being _right there,_ only a few feet away. Where does he frequent? What places could Blue hang around that Red would be likely to visit? Does Red have dreams like he does, about things that could have happened an age past? 

Blue scrunches his brow, frowning at that train of thought. He doesn’t know much about the history of Hyrule, and he figured his dreams were just him making up things that could sound plausible. They couldn’t possibly be true, all of the things he dreams. There’s stuff that’s just too fantastical to believe. A sword that can split someone into four? An entire mirrored world against theirs? Such things couldn’t exist. Surely there would be some sort of record about all that. Though, Blue remembers, their language still hasn’t been completely deciphered. But magic no longer exists, as well. For all their supposed prowess with magic, what remained of the Hylian bloodline no longer held any of it. Blue remembers trying to connect with it, once he learned about that fact. He tried all of the superstitions, all of the supposed ways to call upon it, and the most he ever felt was something of a languid electric shock, quickly flowing through his bloodstream before disappearing as fast as it came. Nothing substantial. 

Even still, the legends were enough to make people wary. It was always a constant whisper, how they messed up some order of the universe, how if something went wrong it was their fault, how _dangerous_ they all were. Blue’s seen how people sidle away from him once they recognize what he is, how they jump and shiver if he so much as looks in their direction. He’s used to it by now. People didn’t pay much attention to him when he was on the streets, already assuming that was just the order of things working as intended. Nothing better than refuse, but even still sometimes refuse got picked up and put away somewhere. 

The streetlights start to dim as they veer their way off of the main arteries of the city. There’s less colors, less flashy lights and more hallways of grey and brown brick, dimming bulbs coughing out what little light they still held. Blue shivers. He generally likes to stick to well-lit areas, though he couldn’t quite articulate why. Something within him always seemed prick adrenaline into his blood whenever he was trapped within the dark and sickly confines of these alleyways. It wasn’t a regular type of fear, but something deep and primal, something that would choke its way out of his throat if it could.

Asher turns off the car lights as he parks on the side of the street, throwing it into park and getting out of the car in one swift motion. He waits until Blue and Byrne are right behind him before he turns his back to them and saunters away. There’s not much in terms of shops in this area; most of it is just squat apartments stuck side by side, sharing walls and the same dingy brown brick, lit weakly by half-working street lamps. Interspersed between are the occasional shop or two, nothing too serious. Some are obviously one and the same, the storefront on the bottom floor, the living quarters of the owners right above them. 

Asher walks down a couple blocks, gesturing to Byrne to come up beside him and for Blue to hang back. He whispers something to Byrne, Blue straining to hear what they’re saying but Asher’s put him far enough back and he’s speaking too softly for him to make out anything. And still, he doesn’t know what the objective is for today. It’s not often that he’s paired with Asher. Whenever he is, Asher is sure to give him no information to go off of until they’ve arrived, then nothing else besides telling him to detain the people inside, as fits his station. 

Asher stops and taps his foot impatiently as Blue hurries to catch up. “Here we are,” he drawls. Blue looks at the building they’re next to. _Another antique shop? That’s odd,_ he thinks, scrunching his brow. _What’s with Asher and antique shops?_

“Get us in, Blue,” he snaps. 

Blue doesn’t bother to hide his disdain as he passes by Asher, Asher leering at him in response. _This is all you’ll ever be good for,_ his expression seems to say. Blue studies the door, frowning. The door and frame itself could be sold inside the store, the wood weathered and splintering. Only a couple kicks sends the door flying open, wood spraying away from the lock and littering the floor. The interior is dark, the street lights spilling in and chasing away the shadows inside. The place is crowded with junk, old furniture, and knicknacks, sprawled around the entire floor like a hoarder’s house. There’s hardly any room to step in, the only clear shot from the door heading straight for the till, wandering estuaries of space present for customers to presumably look to take some of the junk home with them. The place smells of sawdust and old perfume, mixed in with rotting paper and mold. Blue nearly gags at the smell. Even at his worst, he would never let his apartment smell so disgusting.

“Good boy,” Asher croons, ruffling Blue’s hair as he walks in. Blue stops himself from shoving Asher away from him, shuddering underneath his touch. It’s nothing gentle, nothing caring, like how Red’s touch is. “Make sure no one follows us, yeah? The shopkeeper might be upstairs, but I doubt the old man could put up much of a fight. Try not to kill him if he does come down—a hard task for you, I’m sure, but you could hold yourself back long enough.” Asher disappears down a pathway on Blue’s right, Byrne silently passing him and following Asher. 

Blue grimaces, gingerly leaning beside the broken door frame. He can see the staircase behind the till, and he hopes he won’t see anyone rushing down the stairs. The last thing he wants is to mess up someone who has no business being caught in between this, like he is. He folds his arms, letting out a sigh. The door is still open slightly, letting in fresh cool air from the outside, and Blue drinks it hungrily, trying to wash out the moldy smell from his nose. The closer he looks, the more it looks like the place is covered underneath a layer of dust, each small movement kicking some up and swirling it in the air to mix with all the other unpleasant things. He’ll really have to spend some time later scrubbing the smell out of his jacket. 

Time stretches out with silent steps, and he catches glimpses of Asher and Byrne flitting their way through the store, checking every single nook and cranny for... something. _What are they looking for?_ Blue wonders, tapping his finger against his arm. _Last time we went to one of these stores we left empty-handed. I doubt they’re just breaking in and rummaging stuff around for fun. The people in charge of these stores don’t have any business with us._

He leans away from the door frame, taking a deep breath of clean air before leaning into the shop. Down the hall he can see Asher and Byrne hissing at each other as they look through things. They don’t seem to notice him, so Blue sidles a bit closer to see if he can pick anything up. Leaning up against a stack of furniture, Blue closes his eyes, casting out his hearing in their direction. 

“It’s not here,” Asher seethes under his breath.

“Maybe he got the location wrong,” Byrne says.

“Again? That useless piece of shit! Why should we trust what he says by now? It feels like he’s just toying with us, wasting our time,” Asher hisses. “You can never trust a Hylian, Byrne. For fuck’s sake I don’t feel comfortable working around any of them. You know how they are.”

“Blue’s useful at least. He knows what he’s doing.”

Blue jolts at that. Byrne? Defending him against Asher? It’s a backhanded compliment at best, but that’s more than what he would have expected from him. He figured he would just stay silent and let Asher talk rather than try the flames.

“Useful? He makes my skin crawl, just looking at him. He would abandon us at the first sign of trouble, only concerned with saving his own skin. I don’t know why Eidolon trusts him so much, but he also trusts the Hylian that’s sending us on this wild goose chase. What’s so important about finding that thing anyway?”

 _I thought there weren’t any Hylians in his circle,_ Blue frowns. _Though I guess I shouldn’t trust Asher to tell me anything truthful. Though I feel like I would have heard about it from somewhere..._

“I don’t think we’ll find it at all,” Asher continues. “Chasing some fairytale relic; I would have put Eidolon above that but no, he’s listening to that _creep,_ hanging on to his every word and sending us out on these useless missions. We shouldn’t be worrying ourselves with this and spreading ourselves out so thin. I shouldn’t have to be working with Hylians anymore.” 

Byrne grunts. “Don’t talk so loud. You know how they are.”

Asher hisses a breath through his teeth. “Fucking creeps. Blue isn’t smart enough to understand what we’re saying anyway. He’s always on the edge of blackout drunk. I’m done. Let’s call it.” There’s some clattering as they move, Asher complaining about the state of the place. 

Blue’s eyes flash open and he quickly dances over to where he was standing before, leaning up against the frame and putting on a bored expression. He bites the inside of his cheek, chewing at it while mulling over what he heard. _So they are looking for something specific. And there is someone like me, at the top. A secret member of the inner circle. I’ve never heard anything about them. Maybe I’ll have to do some investigating of my own._ Blue pointedly ignores the voice in his head that tells him that by tomorrow he won’t be sober enough to remember this, to even care about what he’s got himself tangled into. That he’s got a house, he’s got his drinks, he’s _fine_ now, and he shouldn’t be questioning things above his station. 

Asher and Byrne appear out of the mess a moment later, the former staring daggers at him with his lip curled into a sneer. “We’re going. I’m surprised you even stayed,” he says cooly. 

Blue stays silent, though he can feel his rage rising in his blood. Asher claps him hard on the back of his head as he passes, making Blue stumble his way out the door. He silences a growl, balling up his fists. _Don’t,_ he warns himself, though he can’t deny that smashing the back of Asher’s head in would probably make him feel better. 

The air blows chill around Blue as they walk. The back of his head is starting to pound again, radiating from the place where Asher hit it. He can feel his body starting to weigh itself down, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget about the day, now that his work is done. He sits down heavily in the back of the car, tugging at his arm wraps as the engine sputters to life, lights starting to come back to life as they return to the city. Blue forces himself to stare at his feet, ignoring the flashing colors wanting to grab his attention, wanting him to stare out the window and look frantically for Red. 

Red would understand if he came to him, right? That he needs someone else in a different place to live that’s not all tangled up in all of this? He doesn’t know how much longer he can last, not without erasing days entirely the way he does now. Red would be able to fix him, right? Red would be able to help calm his heart to a regular rhythm, to get rid of the beat thundering in his head. Maybe Blue could even get used to the idea of being close with someone without flinching, without his body tensing and waiting for something to start hurting.

Colors flash past his eyes as Blue leans his head against the window, looking at the deep ravine of the city skyline, the black of the night distant, a dream in of itself. The city never has to sleep. There’s no stars to populate the sky, as there’s no need when there’s always those colors and lights to paint it anyway. The sound of traffic is its own alarm, the horns blaring and reflecting infinitely against hundreds of walls until it’s repeating back into itself, dancing with its own source and making it something of its own song. There’s still crowds on the sidewalk, enjoying themselves with company, laughing and smiling, creating their own songs to mix with the beat of the city, though Blue does his best to avoid looking at them. They all start disappearing soon enough as they close in on the Empty Set. 

Asher pulls up and Blue exits as fast as he’s able to, turning away to walk back home. It’s darker here, the very air feeling sinister around him and making his heart pump faster. There’s nothing more he wants than to shed this persona and let himself fall back into whatever wretch he currently is. At least he can forget, as the wretch, and not worry about solving mysteries or being the hero of some convoluted story. He can forget and sleep, and dream of better things, where he _can_ be a hero and he has people he can enjoy the presence of. 

“Oh, Blue?” Asher calls him before he can get away.

“What?” Blue turns on his heel, uncaring to hide the venom from his voice.

“Just to let you know, there’s been a schedule change,” Asher says, holding his voice infuriatingly calm. “Your match at Goldwalk next week has been cancelled. Matter of fact, all of your matches for the month have been cancelled. Eidolon wants you to fly low for a bit. Looks like you’re just too recognizable, what with your... features.” Asher gives him a smile filled with poison. 

Blue can feel the blood drain from his face. Those matches are the only thing keeping him sane, the only thing he can look forward to between the blackouts. He rushes back up to Asher until they’re sizing each other up, face to face. “You better not be playing with me,” Blue seethes. “You know what I’m capable of.”

“Not my orders. I would expunge you entirely if it was up to me. We all know how terribly violent you can get,” Asher grins at him, knowing that he’s caught Blue right at the perfect moment. “You Hylians. So touchy. You’re just an accident waiting to happen, Blue. I hope that anger of yours goes off someday, so everyone could truly see how much of a monster you are. You aren’t human like the rest of us.”

Blue’s vision goes red and before he knows it he’s gathered up Asher’s collar into his hands, shouting. It’s exactly what Asher wants—Blue knows this—but he’s had enough for the day. His emotions are all lopsided, filled to the brim with anger currently spilling over. He’s baring his teeth at him, looking into his soulless, taunting blue eyes, wanting nothing more than to give him what he deserves. 

Asher grins back at him, narrowing his eyes. “What are you going to do, Blue? Come on. Hit me. I know you want to.”

Blue can feel himself shaking, he can feel his arm aching to wind back and punch that stupid fucking grin off of his face. _He’s playing you. Don’t give in,_ the rational part of his brain provides. Blue shouts again, feeling his breath return hot and full of fire. But this is a fight he’s destined to fail, no matter what he does. He tosses Asher to the side, watching him stumble before he stands straight, staring right back into Blue and chuckling. It’s his game and he’s winning.

“You’re a coward,” he says, eyes twinkling. “Can’t even fight back. All of you are the same. Just a mixed breed, hardly able to think for themselves. That’s why you drink, yeah? You drink to forget, because you know your life isn’t worth living. You’re lucky Eidolon took pity on you and got you off the streets. I would have been happy to watch you die in the gutters, right where you belong.”

Blue can feel the tears sting the edges of his eyes. He’s too frayed to deal with this right now, and every word is a thousand blades slicing into him. Asher’s underneath his skin and is flaying him from the inside out. “You-you’re wrong,” Blue speaks around the rage bubbling in his throat.

“Am I now?” Asher’s words are scathing. “And why is that, half-breed?”

Blue’s body is going numb, he’s shaking hard with rage and the adrenaline is leaving him small and uncertain, the accusations flung at him sticking and weighing him down. He can’t think through the fog—he was never good at words anyway, and Asher’s main offense was always words he couldn’t counter. This dance of words, it was too polite, too difficult when Blue could just end this all with a swing of his fist. But then he’d lose, and if there’s one thing he hated worse than losing, it was losing to Asher. 

He can feel spittle at the edges of his mouth, like some sort of frothing beast. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, taking in a breath before facing Asher. “You’re wrong,” he says again, the effect he’s going for lessened by the break in his voice. “Cowards strike when their backs are turned. Cowards hit people while they’re down. If I was to fight you, I’d want you to see everything I’m going to do to you. I’d want you to know how much I want you to hurt, I want you to see exactly what’s coming for you, when you do deserve to die by getting stabbed in the back. I’ll make it honorable, Asher. That’s more than you deserve.” 

Asher scoffs at that. “How heroic,” he says sarcastically. “As if you could ever be the hero.” He circles around Blue, heading for the door. “You think I care about honor? You think I care about giving people chances? You really are a brainless idiot. Real people don’t care about such childish things. So thanks, for proving my point. I’ll send you a bottle to drown your sorrows in later.” He disappears through the door before Blue can say anything else.

Blue’s fingernails are splitting their way through his palms before he realizes what he’s doing. The rage is gone, now that he’s gone, and Blue turns away from the Set, wiping the tears out of his eyes. The anger has been translated to tears, and Blue hates how they keep falling off his face with every step he takes. _Coward,_ he thinks as he starts unwrapping the gauze around his arms. _He ran away. I stood my ground. He’s wrong. He’s always wrong. _Some tears get caught in the gauze as he rips it away, soaking their way through and staining it as they dry into stiff salty patches. He pulls his jacket closer to himself, burying himself in it, trying to find comfort in its warmth even though it still smells of the Set. A reminder, that he’s still entangled in all of this and the only comforts he has is because of the Set and the way it controls his life. But he can think about those things later.__

__The tears have stopped by the time he reaches his apartment, the anger in his chest emptied and dried out, turning into an empty hollow that cries for something to fill it. It hurts, it squeezes at his heart and lungs and demands something, _anything, _to come and get rid of it. It hangs heavy over him, gripping its hands into his shoulders and pushing in his shoulder blades until they feel like they’re going to snap. Blue throws his jacket off and lets it settle in the middle of the floor. The triangle on the back is staring upright at him, the light bouncing off of it glowing with concern.___ _

____“And what do _you_ want?” he hisses back at it, hating how unsteady his voice sounds. He needs something to take off the edge. His nerves are frayed to shreds and there’s no way he’s going to be able to sleep when he’s all tied up like he is. He wishes for Red, to hold him and comfort him until he feels like a person again, but Red isn’t here and that Red doesn’t even exist beyond his dreams. _ _ _ _

____So, he supplements, dousing the flames with kickback after kickback of alcohol, hating himself for every minute of it until the colors go from the moonlight blue to fervent red to endless black._ _ _ _


	4. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aha! New chapter! I was incredibly off by my estimates, but hey it's here now! Enjoy!

Sunlight drifts languid through the window curtains when Blue wakes. Red is still curled up next to him, breaths slow and even against his collarbone. He can feel a chill run up his spine; the infirmary blankets aren’t as warm on his back as Red is curled up against his front. He suppresses it the best he can, not wanting to wake Red just yet. 

Specks of dust filter through the sunlight, reflecting it back and forth, caught by some unseen wind that is gently winding its way through the empty room. As much as he hates being here, he can’t help but notice how quiet and calm everything is, and how he isn’t feeling as anxious as he figured he should. After all, he’s forgetting things, entire _days,_ but it’s not presenting itself as an issue right now. No, right now the world is soft and calm, and Blue doesn’t mind to lay back and take it all in. He traces wooden trusses above him with his eyes, one of his hands finding Red’s and squeezing it gently. 

The longer Blue lets himself drift, keeping himself moored through Red’s hand in his and his warmth on his chest, the more the dull ache in the back of his head starts to grow. Blue grimaces as his head throbs, squeezing his eyes shut. He hates the feeling, the way it comes and goes in waves, the way the back of his throat burns along with it some days, the way it’s keeping him grounded and bedridden. He wants to do _something_ other than sitting around useless all day. He can feel the pent up energy boil beneath his skin, wanting nothing more than to worm its way out, to be active and useful again. 

He’s already deep cleaned his quarters, Red’s room, their little living area, and he’s had to stop himself from messing around in Green and Vio’s rooms. Green wouldn’t mind as much as Vio would, Blue reckons, but he doesn’t want to try his luck. Though, Vio’s room is a mess, papers and books and empty mugs littered around the room like a small whirlwind came and messed up the place. Vio claims there’s a method to the madness, but Blue still can’t get himself to believe him. It doesn’t make _sense,_ keeping supposedly important notes on the ground, rather than filed correctly and put away when not in use. Does he _want_ to ruin them when he inevitably trips and spills something all over them? All that hard work, undone in seconds? It makes his hands itch, every single time he passes by his room.

Blue growls softly, flipping to his side and tucking Red’s head underneath his chin. He shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. It’ll just make him frustrated. He’s got enough frustration to deal with right now. He lets his head drop back into the pillow, wrapping his arms around Red and burying his fingers in Red’s hair. Red has been so patient with him. Blue doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it. He’s exploded more times at him than he usually does, what with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him rather than being able to throw himself into practice, into the field, anywhere but stuck in his room with nothing to do. And through every outburst, Red always comes back, he’s always at his side, talking him down and calming his anger. Anyone else and Blue would be snapping back at them, but not at Red. Never at Red. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve someone so kind, someone so forgiving, and at this point he doesn’t try to question it. He’s already tried to reason his way through it multiple times, and every single time he can’t come up with an adequate answer. 

Red shifts beneath him, breathing a quiet sigh against his neck and huddling up closer to him, wrapping his arms around his torso and squeezing him gently. Blue shivers as Red’s hand finds the nape of his neck, fingers pulling gently through his hair. 

“Good morning,” Blue murmurs, pressing his lips against Red’s forehead. 

“Morning,” Red mumbles back. His hand drops out of Blue’s hair, hanging heavy on his chest. 

“Did you sleep okay?” Blue asks, pulling away slightly, cupping his cheek. 

Red is still blinking away sleep, eyes bleary and dull. “I think so,” he says after a moment, rolling onto his back and gathering his hands on top of his chest. “And you?”

“I think so too,” he says after a moment. Last night’s dreams didn’t hold anything substantial, and even as Blue tries to remember they slip away further until they’re nothing but memories of bright, flashing lights against a dark canvas, vaguely humanoid shapes pulsing away into colors and sound until nothing remains. There was no backdrop of fear, of loneliness, but he figures he, too, must have disappeared into the lights like everyone else. Nothing felt out of place and his heart didn’t thunder through him to wake him up. A quiet night, amid all of those other strange dreams he’s been having.

“That’s good,” Red says softly, pressing himself against Blue. They let their breaths fill the space between, silent, watching sunlight dance its way across the ceiling and walls. If Blue focuses in enough, he can hear Red’s heartbeat against the rustling of the curtains. The beat staves off his thoughts, pushing away the dread of another empty day into a future moment where he can worry about it later. Right now, he can enjoy the calm and let time drift however it may.

The shadows that have spread themselves across the room shorten as the sun rises higher, going from elongated caricatures into more recognizable sizes and shapes. Blue watches the curtains flutter idly, keeping his mind from wandering as much as he is able. Though, Red’s heartbeat can only do so much to keep him occupied, and soon he can feel his hands tense as nervous energy flows through him. 

There’s nothing he can do besides sit and wait to heal, and it frustrates him. It’s been too long since he’s been able to tire himself out the way he chooses. But when something as innocent as standing up too quickly makes his vision swim and his head throb, there’s no way he could go through training, much less any sort of mission, no matter how small it may be. He feels useless, aimless, without something to occupy him. After all, he should be the strength of their team, the person to rely on, their pillar. Being trapped inside the castle is doing nothing but cracking his foundation further, penting up more and more energy he has no idea how to direct. He’s not one for sitting around. He can’t sit back and soak in information like Vio can, he can’t let himself relax like Red can, he can’t shed off his worries like Green can. All he can do is wait and hope he doesn’t go mad in the meantime.

Before long, Blue is twisting the blanket between his hands, feeling the pull of the fibers beneath his fingers, how they snap and relax when it coils and unwinds. As he lets his eyes unfocus, the ceiling seems to be shrinking, the room becoming unbearably small with just him and Red. He can’t help but feel trapped, stuck pacing back and forth in a small cage like some sort of animal, restless, relentless. His breath quickens as he snaps himself back into focus, anxiety pumping its way through his blood. What is he going to do today? What hasn’t he already done that can be done? What else is there that he can do? Or has he already exhausted all options, and he’ll be stuck wandering corridors as he feels more energy burst its way through him, collecting and pooling until it explodes in a way he can’t control? He doesn’t want to keep snapping at people, he doesn’t want to be resented and hated for his temper, but without a way to release it, Blue figures it’s only a matter of time until it explodes unchecked, and he’ll be right back where he started—mean, violent, angry, selfish.

Blue squeezes his eyes shut, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. He’s gone through so much, and he doesn’t want to lose the person he’s become. Even still, he can feel that touch of darkness in the back of his mind. It comes forward in those days where he’s alone, where the nights grow too long, too dark, too cold, and wraps its way through him, choking him from the inside out. How easy it is, to care only about himself, it whispers. How easy would it be, to cast aside everyone else and prove to everyone that he doesn’t need anyone, that he can handle everything alone, that people are only a burden and true strength is showing no weakness. That he should handle all of his tears alone, that he should never show a single crack in his countenance, that letting others into his heart is a fatal flaw and that will bring him to ruin. Not the darkness, no, but anyone who sees him for what he isn’t. 

Of course, Blue knows that’s not true, but there are still days the darkness wins and he loses himself in his anger, with emotion winning over logic and ripping away what made him into a whole person rather than a section of one. He’s beyond a ripped soul, after all they’ve been through, and he’d much rather stay that way than return back into the vessel of self-absorption and anger he was. He needs people around him, he needs people to care about him and he needs people to care about. Even though months have passed, he can still feel that horrible emptiness that built inside of him when he was deposited alone in the snow, everyone else presumed dead. Of course deep down he knew that they hadn’t snapped back into one. It was just a lie he told himself to feel better, to push off the cavern that was building in his chest, to cast aside that voice telling him that it was his fault everyone else had died. Reality had settled in hard, proving that he could never handle himself alone, that without others near him he would as quickly destroy himself as only a monster could.

Blue flinches as warm hands cover his own, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looks over to see Red above him, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. “Blue? You doing okay?” he asks, untangling one of his hands from the blanket and slotting it into his own.

“I... yeah,” Blue says softly. “I’m fine.”

Red hums, unconvinced. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Blue shifts uncomfortably, avoiding Red’s gaze. “I know,” he says. “It’s nothing. Really, don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t help but worry about it,” Red says. “You’ve been so out of sorts lately.”

Blue sighs, pulling himself out of the sheets and sitting himself up next to Red. Red rests his head on Blue’s shoulder, rubbing circles around Blue’s knuckles. He huddles closer, laying his head on Red’s, trying to gather his thoughts. He doesn’t want Red to worry about him, he doesn’t like it when others worry about him, but he knows Red comes from a good place and will take his concerns seriously even if they do sound trivial. He lets time stretch, the curtains rustling and their breathing breaking the quiet of the room. “I’m tired of this,” Blue says after a moment, breaking the silence. “I need to do something. I don’t want to keep getting angry at people because I can’t do anything. I feel stuck.”

Red squeezes his hand gently, prodding him to continue.

Blue complies, taking a deep breath. “Sitting around isn’t _me,_ you know. I want to leave, I want to do something _useful_ again. I don’t know how Zelda handles it, being stuck in here all the time. She doesn’t seem to mind, dealing with all the inside stuff but I do and I hate it. It’s only been a couple weeks and I feel like I’m going crazy. I can’t practice, I can’t go anywhere, I can’t do much besides sit around or else I’ll just make all of this stuff worse and it’ll take me longer to heal. I don’t want to take longer to heal but what about how I’m feeling? I hate feeling like this, sitting around and not being able to get rid of this energy except by getting mad at people for trying to help me. I don’t want to keep snapping out. I was doing so much better and now I’m falling back into bad habits.”

“I don’t think you can practice still at the very least,” Red says after a moment. “But maybe I could get you out for a bit? See if you could run some errands with me and get you out of here.”

“You think you can get away with that?” Blue says, not bothering to hide the hopeful tinge in his voice.

“No one can say no to me,” Red grins. “I’m going to use that to my advantage.”

Blue doesn’t try to hide the smile growing on his face as he faces Red. He can feel his heart rise, and just like that the dark place he was stuck in is nothing but a bad dream. “You’re awful. I love you.” He doesn’t bother to check to see if they’re still alone before surprising Red with a kiss, savoring the surprised squeak he gets to go along with it. 

Red looks dazed when he pulls back, a lopsided grin on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. Blue’s grin is so wide his cheeks hurt as he watches Red come back to himself. “Blue,” Red breathes, but before he can fully recover Blue surprises him again with another kiss. Red laughs into his lips, and Blue can feel his heart swell with the sound. He continues his attack, kissing his lips again, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, all while Red giggles softly underneath him. Soon enough, Red twists right into the next kiss and it’s Blue that squeaks in surprise as Red deepens the kiss, wrapping his hands in Blue’s hair and keeping him in place as his tongue pleads entrance into Blue’s mouth.

Blue’s jaw goes slack in surprise at Red’s eagerness, Red taking advantage and slipping his tongue between his lips. Stars burst in Blue’s vision as Red pushes against him, teeth clashing as he dives in again and again, his breath hot and heavy against his rapidly disappearing ones. Red laps at the inside of his mouth, quick and fervent, as if it’s their first time again, hidden behind closed doors in the dark, breaths silent against each other as footsteps pass by again and again. Blue remembers Red’s breath ghosting against his collarbone as he ran his hands up and down Red’s torso, around his back, down his spine. He remembers ramming his lips against Red’s in a confession not yet spoken, something he didn’t quite have the words for but knew the actions of. 

Red nips the bottom of his lip and Blue complies, lifting Red on top of him and letting his hands wander across his sides and back, Red tenting his arms against the sides of Blue’s head. The kisses break only long enough for Red to catch his breath. Blue’s breath continues to leave him as Red grinds his hips into Blue’s, each kiss turning into a dizzying display of passion. An embarrassing moan leaves Blue’s throat when Red’s lips travel down his chin down to his throat, teeth nipping around his jugular. 

“I love you so much,” Red breathes into his ear, Blue shuddering helplessly beneath him. His chest burns, breaths puffing in and out of his lungs uselessly, moving all too fast to be of any use. 

“Red,” he chokes back, words lost when he feels Red press down into him again, a strangled groan leaving him when Red kisses the tips of his ears. He can imagine his face is more than flushed, bright red from lack of breath, chest puffing trying to find air, eyes wide and unfocused, Red and the ceiling smearing together in a clash of colors above him. His body is disappearing within him, turning to nothing but white-hot, nothing but putty underneath Red’s hands and lips. The ache in his head has turned to dizzying breathlessness, his fears disappearing with each kiss Red gives him, the anxiety evaporating into excitement in his chest. How could he have forgotten, that he doesn’t need to worry about anything with Red around, that he’ll be taken care of, that every single one of his worries will dissipate and he’ll be left with only this bubbling happiness that threatens to spill over his eyes and widen his lips into a dumb, stupid huge grin.

He’s already smiling wide beneath Red’s lips, the world nothing but a _feeling,_ something warm and soft and lovely. He focuses his eyes the best he can, Red pausing above him, eyes half-lidded, teeth bared, cheeks flushed. 

“Am I going too fast?” Red pants, flattening himself onto Blue. His head rests in the crook of Blue’s shoulder, golden hair spilling across his face.

Blue shakes his head. “You’re doing just fine. I love you.”

Red sighs happily, snaking his arms around Blue’s torso and squeezing tight before lifting himself up again. “You want to keep going?”

“Yes,” Blue replies hurriedly, wincing at how rough his voice sounds. He’s already undone, his arms are shaking as he grips the sides of Red’s arms, his breath is irregular and he can feel his heart beat uneven in his throat as he meets Red’s sapphire eyes. 

Red hardly has the chance to kiss him again before Blue hears the doors swing open and hit the wall with a loud announcing _thud,_ and he scrambles to throw Red to his side and act like he’s perfectly fine and not aching for Red to be kissing him silly. He can feel his already awful blush deepen when he sees who interrupted them. 

“Zelda!” Blue chokes out, trying to hide his red cheeks with a misplaced smile. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Zelda, stately as always, just smiles softly at him. “Good news, don’t worry.” She pauses, and her demeanor cracks and she shatters into relief. “We got the mirror working.”

Blue can feel himself freeze and Red tenses next to him. The air has left his throat and he’s left to grasp helplessly for words that don’t want to come. Red squeezes his hand, and blood rushes back to his head. “Sh-Shadow?” he asks, desperate. He remembers, oh he _remembers,_ the way the glass shattered, endlessly echoing, a body on the ground and eyes bright of a shadow gone too soon.

The pause lasts an eternity, half a second, minutes too long and hours too quick. “Yes,” Zelda answers quietly. “We’ve made contact.”

Tears fill his eyes and threaten to spill, burning around his cheeks and all he can do to release the tension building in his chest is squeeze Red’s hand tighter and let out a relieved laugh. Red squeezes his hand back, joining him and soon he’s wrapped his arms around Blue’s shoulders and is laughing joyfully into his collarbone. 

“Can we see him?” Red asks, breathless, turning away from Blue to stare at Zelda, as if she’s just an apparition, ready to disappear at the waver of his breath. 

Zelda’s smile falters.

Blue grips Red’s hand tighter as he feels his heart begin to pound anxiously. All this work that they’ve done—it can’t disappear that quick, can it? All gone within the blink of an eye, leaving only an imprint and an echo of what once lived...

“Shadow, he’s,” Zelda pauses, her voice uncharacteristically small, “he’s still trapped within the mirror. We can talk with him but he can’t get out. We’re doing all that we can to figure this out, but it might just be a matter of waiting for him to regain enough strength to be able to make his way through the Light World.” She clears her throat, and just like that, the mask of an ambassador replaces her face. “He would very much like to speak with you two, though. I can take you there, if you’re ready. You feeling okay, Blue?”

Blue nods hurriedly. There’s a light thumping that’s beginning to return in the back of his head, but he can ignore it for now. Besides, if it gets worse, he’s got Red to take care of him. Colors spin as he stands up, and he reaches out to find Red, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it once, followed by a brush of his thumb. _Ready?_

Red takes the hand on his shoulder and slides it into his own, interlocking the space between. One squeeze, then a thumb brushing against Blue’s. Red looks at him, eyes bright and cheeks touched with tears. “You okay?” Red asks, squeezing his hand once. _Input._

“I’m fine,” Blue says, blinking rapidly to get rid of the starburst floating in front of him. He feels too large, too small, for his body, wavering on his feet. He squeezes Red’s hand twice, taps his index finger twice. _Keep watch. Feel dizzy._

Red smiles warmly at him. “If you say so.” Blue feels the brush of his thumb. _Got it._ “Just let me know, okay?”

“I will.” Blue smiles back at him, and the world snaps back into sharp focus. He lets Red lead him as they follow Zelda with hurried steps, the sound reverberating against the hallways, echoing forward and back until they step onto plush carpets and rugs. The silence splits Blue’s head, absolutely deafening as they delve deeper within the castle, windows growing slim and sunlight turning towards torchlight. Soon enough, his footsteps return to him as they turn towards a less-used wing of the castle, spiraling down staircases, twisting and turning through the maze-like hallways, until Zelda stops in front of an undecorated door near the supply rooms. 

Two soldiers salute to her, and she nods as they step away to let them through. As she slowly cracks the door open, Blue untangles his hand from Red’s to step closer to see inside the dingy room. Before he can get a close look, Zelda hisses a breath and backs into him, closing the door to a small sliver. “Sorry,” she whispers, keeping her hand to the doorknob. 

“It’s fine,” Blue mumbles as he cranes his neck to see over her and into the room. Through the crack, he can see the Dark Mirror anchored to the wall, and as his eyes adjust to the darkness he can see movement next to the mirror, and within it as well. He sees the person stop right in front of the mirror, hesitantly reaching a hand out to brush against the surface. 

“Vio,” Red breathes. “Oh. Oh, Vio...”

Zelda nods. “Let’s hang back for a second.”

Blue holds his breath as Vio flattens his palm against the mirrors surface. His hands shake, only stopping as he presses into the mirrors surface, as if he could break through the barrier with that simple force.

“Shadow?” Vio’s voice shakes, emotions clashing and clamoring within those two syllables. He raises his other hand to the mirror, shaking. “Can you—can you hear me?”

Vio’s hands are met with Shadow’s reflection of his, their eyes meeting electric. Silence blankets the room, and Blue can only hear his heart thunder in his ears as he waits for the reply. 

Shadow opens his mouth, once, twice, three times, before his voice cracks with a timid, “Vio?”

Vio brings a hand up to his mouth, choking back a sob, the other pushing frantic against the mirror. His stance breaks at the same time his cry escapes his throat, bringing his forehead to rest against the glass. “You-you’re...”

Shadow brings his forehead forward to rest against Vio’s. “Vio,” he says quietly, voice cracking. “Vio, I-I thought I’d never see you again.” Blue hears another sob break. He squints, and he thinks he sees tears flowing down Shadow’s cheeks.

“You’re alive,” Vio whispers. “Shadow, I never got to say sorry for what I did.” He sniffs, tears dripping off his chin, flickering in the low light as they fall to the ground. 

Shadow shushes him, voice gentle. “There’s no need. I love you Vio. I love you so much. You did what you had to do, and I forgive you.”

“Shadow-”

“It’s okay, Vio. I’m here now.” Shadow smiles up at him. “I might not be able to touch you, but we can see each other again. We can talk again. We’re gonna be okay.”

Vio’s breath catches in another cry. “I love you too, Shadow. I swear, we’re going to get you out of that mirror.” He hisses a breath, and fervently continues, “I’m going to get you out of there, and we’re going to be able to touch each other again. We’re going to be able to hold hands, and hug each other, and be together again. I swear it, Shadow.”

“Vio,” Shadow breathes. 

Blue misses what he says next, losing his balance and stumbling into Zelda as someone runs into his back. He whips his head around, and narrows his eyes as he sees who did it. “Green!” he hisses quietly. “Not right now!”

“What’s going on?” Green says, not bothering to lower his voice.

Red and Zelda both turn to shush him. Green balks, taking a step back. 

“Vio’s meeting Shadow,” Zelda says quietly. She frowns as she turns back to look inside. “Though, it seems as though we might have cut their meeting short.”

Blue cranes his neck over her, and he can see that Vio’s flinched back from the mirror, furiously rubbing his eyes as he turns towards the door. He looks back at Shadow, Shadow shrugging at him, and Vio stalks his way towards the door, frowning as he opens it to meet all their faces. 

“...How much of that did you see,” he says, voice low. His eyes are sharp, holding each of their gazes for a split second as he raises his head. He locks Zelda in a steely gaze, as if it can hide the tears still leaking out of the corners of his eyes.

Zelda juts her jaw out and returns his look. “We just got here. Do you still need a moment alone?”

Vio twists his head back towards the mirror, then shakes his head. “No. I think we are good for now. Come in.” He opens the door, nodding as each of them step in. Before Blue can file his way beside Red, Vio grabs his arm, stopping him. “You doing okay, Blue?”

Blue grimaces, pulling his arm out of Vio’s grasp. “Just fine. Don’t worry about me.” He winces as his headache starts migrating from the back to the front, pounding and scratching at his eyes, hissing and growling behind his spine. He suppresses a shiver, and steps past Vio, pursing his lips as he feels Vio’s eyes burn into his back, the room starting to spin rapidly around him again. Blackness starts to creep around the edges of his vision, but he’s able to keep it back this time with a shake of his head.

He sidles up next to Red, slotting his hand into his, squeezing it once and brushing his thumb.

Red looks up at him, concern etched in his face. He squeezes back, brushing his thumb. _Input._

“Well! Look at that! Everyone’s come to see me,” Shadow claps his hands together, though the tone he’s going for is ruined slightly by the tear tracks still carved in his cheeks. “It’s nice to see that y’all still care. It wasn’t all that great you know, floating about and not being able to think harder than any other shadow.” He frowns, tapping a finger against his chin. “Though, I can’t quite remember if I was stuck behind y’all or just trapped in some shadowy primordial soup. No matter though! Now that I’m back...”

Blue hisses a breath through his teeth as his hearing goes dim, Shadow’s words fuzzing together into unintelligible sounds. He squeezes Red’s hand twice, taps his index finger followed by his middle. _Keep watch. Dizzy, sound._

Red taps his ring finger. _Standing?_

One squeeze. _Fine._

Red brushes his thumb. _Got it._ He bites his lip, looking back towards Shadow and grinning warmly at him. “Nice to see you too, Shadow.” Blue can hardly make out Red’s sentence.

Blue squeezes his eyes shut, taking in a shaky breath as he wills the room to stop shaking and for sound to stop distorting. He flinches as he hears his name being called.

“And Blue! You’re... not looking so hot, are you?” Blue opens his eyes to Shadow with his hands on his hips, eyebrows knit together. “You doing okay, buddy?”

“I’m fine,” Blue says brusquely. Shadow’s reflection seems to be rippling, the epicenter of a drop in a pond. His eyes struggle to focus on a single point, lights flashing in time with the building thunder in his head.

“He got hurt earlier and is still recovering,” Green says, pointedly looking at him. “You’re looking awful pale, Blue.”

“I’ve been stuck inside, of course I’m looking pale,” Blue grumbles. He can feel his heartbeat start to migrate up his throat, the vignette of black returning to his vision.

“You know what I mean,” Green says, knitting his eyebrows. “Do you need to sit?”

Blue shakes his head. “I’m _fine,_ Green.” He brushes his thumb against Red’s, followed by tapping his index finger once, squeezing three times. _Dizzy. Bad._

“You sure?” Red says. “You’re really not looking good, Blue.” _Standing?_

Blue bites his lip. His knees start to buckle, and with a surprised grunt he transfers his weight onto Red. _Bad._ “M’be you’re right,” he slurs. He squeezes Red’s hand in a death grip, foregoing their system. “Wall?” 

Red’s voice sounds far away as he puts an arm under Blue to support him. “We can sit you down there, yes.” He stumbles beneath his weight as Blue’s knees buckle further. 

Blue tightens his grip on Red, grimacing as his feet refuse to move at his command. His heart roars behind his eyes, each thump taking away more of his sight, his hearing, his touch. Something bitter seems to hang heavy on his tongue, burning the back of his throat. He blinks rapidly against the wall of black threatening to overtake him, steps staggering and tangling together, his body beginning to fade with him trapped inside.

“Red,” he says weakly as he pitches forward, and the world goes black.

\---

Blue’s head is thundering when he opens his eyes, but it’s not his kitchen ceiling that stares back at him.

Red’s eyes catch him first, wide with worry. He blinks, seeing Green and Vio and Zelda above him too. _What...?_

Red’s saying something to him, and Blue just blinks dumbly back as he tries to gather his messy thoughts. The room he’s in is fairly dark and drab—nowhere as nice and clean as Blue’s room is. The floor beneath him is cold stone, digging into his back, and he can faintly taste dust in the air. Sound starts to come back to him, slowly but surely. His heartbeat. The crack of fire. Someone shuffles their feet, his head grabbing the rhythm and deciding to pound along with it. Blue blinks hard again, bringing the room into sharper focus as he lets himself settle into this dream. 

He flinches as Red grabs his hand, bringing it up to his chest. “Blue? Blue! Are you okay?” Red squeezes his hand, brushing his thumb against his. 

Blue tenses, his mouth going dry. He squeezes back Red’s hand, using it to lift himself into a sitting position, groaning as his headache migrates to encapsulate him, bringing chills down his spine. He shivers, blinking rapidly against the curtain of black threatening to shut him down from the eaves. “Wh-what happened?” Blue rasps.

Red purses his lips, brushing his thumb against his again. “You passed out. Sorry, I thought we would be able to sit you down fast enough. Do you need to lay down?”

“Fine. I’m fine,” Blue says quickly as he looks around. He starts when he notices a huge black mirror hanging against the wall, a figure inside looking curiously on. He locks his eyes with Blue, narrowing them and giving him a sneer, but as the others turn back towards it, he wipes off the expression and returns to a cheeky grin.

Red helps to pull him to his feet, Blue staggering as he regains his balance. _This body feels so weak,_ Blue thinks as he rights himself. _What’s been going on, Blue?_ He winces. _Not like I’ve been doing much better, but still..._

“Are you sure you're going to be okay?” Vio asks him. “You can always talk to Shadow later.” He turns to Zelda, worry coloring his face. “We _can_ talk to Shadow later, right? This isn’t a one time contact?”

Zelda shakes her head. “The link should be permanent, as far as I’m aware.”

Vio’s shoulders relax as he releases a breath, nodding.

“I’ll be fine,” Blue says again, voice as firm as he can make it. His knees shake as he turns to face the mirror, suppressing a shiver as he meets Shadow’s eyes. 

“You’re still looking pretty pale,” Green says, placing a hand on his shoulder, making Blue flinch. “Are you absolutely sure?”

Blue opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by Shadow, “Let him stay. Matter of fact, I’d like to speak to him alone.”

Red turns to him. “But Shadow,” he falters. He squeezes Blue’s hand again and taps his index finger. Blue squeezes it back twice. Red looks up quizzically at him, lips frowning. _You okay?_ he mouths. Blue nods back, squeezing his hand twice again for good measure. “Can I stay?” Red asks, sounding shaken.

“ _Now,_ ” Shadow’s tone leaves no room for complaint. 

Red gives Blue another look before letting go of his hand, waiting until everyone else leaves in front of him before filing behind and looking back at Blue, worry etched on his face. He closes the door, and Blue turns back to look at Shadow. He flinches as he meets his eyes, full of silent fury as he crosses his arms in front of him. His eyes glance towards the door before leveling Blue in his steely gaze.

“You’re not Blue,” he seethes. “Who’re you?”

Blue laughs nervously. “Wh-what are you talking about? Of course I’m Blue.”

Shadow barks a laugh, making Blue jump. “You think I wouldn’t recognize my own Light World counterparts? You don’t have the same feel as Blue. Similar, but not the same. You’re possessing him.” He narrows his eyes at him. “Now tell me who you are before I order the others to bring you down. Red’s waiting just outside the door. I can feel him.”

Sweat drips down the back of Blue’s neck, the hairs raising as he sees Shadow’s teeth sharpen as he sneers back at him. _Fuck. Fuck! I don’t even know what’s going on!_ He tries to relieve the tension by letting out another nervous laugh, but it just puts Shadow more on edge.

“They’ll be able to hear me, you know. If I tell them there’s an intruder, they’ll come barging in here swords in hand. I bet you’ve never even handled a sword. I bet you’ve never seen them fight, seen them take someone down. It’s quick. It’s brutal. So what’s it going to be, _Blue?_ Better make it quick.”

Blue holds his hands out in front of him, swallowing hard. “Fine. Fine, you got me. I’m not Blue.” He takes a sharp breath through his teeth. _No going back now. Might as well try to explain yourself._ He looks back towards the door, checking to make sure it’s closed before sitting down on the cold ground. “Please don’t call them in. I’ll talk.”

Shadow regards him, before sighing and sitting down with him. “Then talk,” he says tersely, curling his lip. “Before I change my mind.” 

Blue nods quickly, fingers curling into the hard stone on the ground. He winces as he feels dust gather underneath his fingernails. “Okay. Okay. Honestly? I don’t know what’s going on either.” He takes in a breath, talking quickly. “I’m not from this time period. Last night I passed out in my kitchen and I woke up here. I’m not meaning to do this. Really, I’m not. I think I’m dreaming. This is all just a dream, right?”

Shadow tilts his head back, expression unreadable. “What’s your name?”

“Blue,” he answers, heart thumping in his throat. Sweat continues to drip down the back of his neck, and he winces as he sees Shadow’s expression grow dark.

“No, really. What’s your name? _Your_ name? Not the body you’re possessing,” Shadow hisses.

“My name really is Blue,” he scowls, hands curling into fists at his sides, nails scraping against the ground. “If you want the truth, I changed it years ago. No, I’m not telling you my old name. Old me is _dead._ ”

The mirror seems to ripple as Shadow waves his hand. “Fine. So you’re from the future then?”

“I guess,” Blue sighs. “Please just-just don’t tell Red okay? I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Shadow pauses. “Why do you care?” 

Lights flash around his eyes as Blue remembers Red at the club, the concern hanging on his face when he woke up with him the other day, the way he looked at him before leaving the room. A pang hits his heart, making him sigh heavily, running a hand through his hair. The length feels too short, too revealing. 

“Well?” Shadow prods, startling him. 

A frustrated sigh leaves his mouth. “Listen I don’t _know_ what’s going on here either but I don’t want Red or-or any of the others getting tied up in this. This is the only second time I’ve been in control anyway.” He shakes his head, licking his lips. His throat feels dry, but at least it’s not burning. “The rest of the time it’s just like I’ve been watching Blue. I’ve never really _been_ him and—this has to be a fluke okay? It’s only been twice I don’t want Red worrying about someone possessing his Blue all the time. He deserves to be happy.” 

Shadow regards him silently, huffing in a breath as he stands up. “Alright. Fine. I won’t tell the others, for now.” He holds him in a stern gaze. “Though the instant you hurt any of them, all bets are off. Understand?”

Blue nods hurriedly. A weight seems to rise off his shoulders. He’s told someone else now. He’s not sharing the full responsibility anymore. This could be good, and maybe he could have someone to talk to about all of this...

“Get over here. I want to try something,” Shadow says, banishing his train of thought.

Knees crack as Blue hefts himself up, head spinning as he rights himself. The room feels off as he steps closer to the mirror, the body he’s trapped in still feeling too short and awkward to really be _him._ He feels both stronger and weaker, a strange duality. The tips of his ears feel cold as he doesn’t have his usual mop of hair to keep them warm, to hide them. He feels exposed as Shadow looks him over, placing a hand on his side of the mirror, gesturing for him to do the same.

Blue fully expects the glass to be cold as he rests his hand over Shadow’s, flinching as he feels a strange, human-like warmth pass into his palm instead. “Weird,” he says to himself as he brings his other hand up to touch the mirror. The glass there is cold, bringing a off-kilter dichotomy to equilibrium. His heart seems to swell as he feels the warmth from where Shadow is not quite touching him enter his chest and pass through the hand touching only the glass. He looks up to see Shadow giving him a bewildered expression, eyes wide and jaw slack.

“Yeah,” Shadow agrees, sounding shaken. “You-you said you were from the future, right?”

“As far as I can tell,” Blue says, distracted. Is that warmth spreading through his veins how magic was supposed to feel? Sparking through him, like how a drink made him feel, but without the burning? Something warm, like a gentle touch, filling him and making him feel wonderful, powerful? Like he had somehow connected with a river, a circuit, a storm? 

“You think you’re dreaming, right?” Shadow’s voice sounds far away, fuzzy.

Blue nods. His blood feels so full, like it’s thundering against his veins, a forceful stormwall swirling inside of him and demanding an exit. If he could harness this kind of power when he woke up...

“Blue. Listen to me. This is important.”

“I’m listening,” Blue mumbles. He furrows his brow, half-closing his eyes as he tries to focus in on the energy coursing through him. It feels foreign, familiar, Red’s gentle touch against his hand, Asher’s forceful clap across the back of his head. 

Shadow pulls his hand away from Blue’s and suddenly the feeling inside him falters to dust. Blue gasps loudly as the feeling rips its way out of him, choking him for a second as he settles back into his body. Small. Weak. Powerless. “You’re not listening,” Shadow growls.

Fingernails scrape against the glass as Blue’s hand curls against the mirror, scrabbling for purchase he can’t find. “I-I’m listening. Sorry. I’m listening,” he pants. Was that from Shadow? That power that he felt? Or was it just the latent magic energy he heard rumors about, the stream that all Hylians could connect to?

Shadow frowns at him. “I’m not sure how to explain this but I’ll do my best. You’ve got the same imprint that Blue does. Well, you feel similar enough, but not the same. If you really are from the future...” Shadow trails off, looking troubled. “I think yours and Blue’s souls are connected for a reason. Or you’re the same soul. I can’t quite tease it out. You both feel very similar, but yours is off, like a fake of a painting. Close enough, but missing a few vital brushstrokes. Does that make sense to you?”

Blue bites his lip. “I think it does.” 

“Okay.” Shadow looks past Blue towards the door. “If you’re so convinced that you’re dreaming, do some research in your time, yeah? Does Hyrule exist in your time?”

“Hyrule was destroyed a long time ago,” Blue says quietly, blood chilling. “Hundreds of years ago. We can’t decipher your language, so the history is pretty sparse.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” Shadow says under his breath. 

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s not great to hear,” Blue says. “We don’t know what caused the downfall either. Just that it was sudden and pretty effectively wiped you all out. Hylian blood is pretty rare in my time.”

Shadow tilts his head. “You’re not Hylian, then?”

Blue grimaces. “No, I am.” Hylian. Half-breed. Not normal. Not _human._

“No need to be so unhappy about it,” Shadow says. He taps against the mirror, catching Blue’s attention. “Listen. Red’s still outside and I feel like he’s getting pretty agitated. Find out what you can in your time, okay? If you’re in control again, see if you can make your way back here and tell me what you’ve been able to find. Understood?”

Blue nods. “Understood.” 

“Good, good.” Shadow glances towards the door. “You should probably let them back in. Try to act normal, okay?”

“I can act normal,” Blue scowls as he turns away from Shadow and makes his way towards the door. Light blinds him as he cracks it open, turning from white to red as Red jumps forward to hug him around the waist. He can feel the air leave his lungs, the places where Red is squeezing him start to burn. “H-hey Red,” he stutters, feeling the beginnings of a blush color his cheeks. 

His blush deepens as Red nuzzles into him. “Hi Blue!” he says, muffled by the fabric of Blue’s tunic. He pulls away, looking up at Blue with bright eyes, slipping his hands into Blue’s. “You doing okay?” He squeezes them once, brushing his thumb.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine,” Blue smiles back at him, his heart pumping fast. He squeezes Red’s hands once. “Doing just fine.” He can feel heat filling him, heady and dizzying.

Red smiles dazzlingly at him, blindingly bright, like the sun took residence within him. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad you’re doing better.”

Before Blue can turn away, Red stands up on his toes and snakes a hand behind Blue’s neck, holding him in place and pressing a kiss against his lips. Blue squeaks in surprise, embers alighting in his chest and burning through him, filling his veins with a fire and coursing through him with a feeling he’s never felt before. His breath leaves him, stunning him in place as Red pulls back, beaming at him. 

Stars burst at the edges of his vision, pulsing from brilliant sun to black hole in mere moments. Blue feels something jerk deep within his chest, something tethered to his heart. He can feel the world spin beneath his feet, and he pitches forward, catching himself on Red’s shoulder. Something seems to tug him out of the moment, making the scene around him grow distant, further, darker, black.

\---

The first thing Blue does when he wakes up is reach for the battered notebook on the side of his bed, fumbling around for a pen. He opens up to a clean page, scrawling the date on the top.

_I’m not dreaming. These aren’t dreams. They’re real. At least, Shadow thinks so, and I think I trust him. I need to find out more..._

He chews on the tip of the pen as he thinks. So much happened, so many things, so much he could write about. But one moment sticks in his head deeper than the others. He can feel his heart swell as he thinks about it, his hand shaking slightly as he traces sunflowers in the margins.

_Red kissed me today._

_I feel like spring._

_I feel like there’s flowers growing in my chest._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is appreciated <3 thanks for keeping strong through the hiatus!


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